


Something Beautiful in Return

by smithandbarrowman



Series: Something Beautiful [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beach House, Betrayal, F/M, Herbology, Potions, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 09:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 109,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15637839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: A betrayal of the worst kind has Hermione Granger seeking a place of solitude, where she can leave the world behind and be by herself. All Draco Malfoy wants is privacy, and his name to be forgotten. But is that the only thing they both want?





	1. Chapter 1

******* HERMIONE *******

* * *

 

The rocking of the train had a familiarity that was oddly comforting. It had been years since I had travelled on one, the Hogwarts Express being the last time, but the familiarity was what I needed.

The train was scarcely half full, and while no one knew who I was, I was grateful. The constant intrusion into my life over the past two weeks had driven me to the point of insanity and out of the city to a place where I could hide. I had caught the earliest train I could, leaving before anyone would notice my absence, and was travelling towards the coast, where I hoped that the rocky cliffs and small stretches of sand would bring the peace and serenity I was seeking.

I could have simply disapparated out of the city. It would have been quick and easy, and I could have been gone instantly. But as the miles slipped by, I knew I had made the right choice. I felt my shoulders relax, felt the tension slowly seep away and I felt the horror that had become my life fall behind me.

I sat staring out the window as the scenery slowly changed from that of the loud and frantic pace of the city to the quiet rolling hills of the countryside. I needed the time, needed the hours it would take on my journey to the coast to clear my head. I didn't want to arrive angry. I didn't want to be in the murderous mood I was in. I wanted to be calm – at least calmer than I was - and the passing scenery was having that affect on me. The open fields, the small villages, the cottages that dotted the landscape were like salve on a cut; soothing and able to take away some of the pain.

But the small wave of calm that was slowly washing over me wasn't nearly enough. I needed to bathe in my surroundings. I needed to dive in head first and not come back up until the pain and anger had left me. And I truly did not care how long it took, I would happily spend an eternity out here, if it guaranteed me some peace.

The dark clouds that were forming overhead indicated that weather was turning, but I didn't care. All I focused on was where I was headed. The description of the cottage that I had booked last minute was "private" and "isolated" and "quiet" and it was exactly what I needed. I needed time away from everyone and everything. I needed time to think. I needed time to reset and readjust my life.

There weren't enough words to describe what had happened.

But I didn't want to think about that. I simply wanted to hole up in the little cottage and shut out the world.

With a deep breath, I shoved the ear buds of my iPod (the last gift I received from my parents) into my ears and closed my eyes. The music shut out all my thoughts and the cliffs and the beach and the isolation flittered across my vision.

No one knew where I was going, which meant no one would find me.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

* * *

The cottage was further out of the village than I realised – although,  _Cliff-Top Cottage_  should have been a dead giveaway – and I hadn't given a thought to just how I would get there from the station.

I had walked the short distance into the small village and when I explained to Frank Connelly, the kindly shop owner that I was staying at Cliff-Top Cottage and that I was there to pick up my key, he graciously offered to give me a lift. He did, however look puzzled at my smallish bag, not having any clue as to the fact that I had magically enlarged the inside of it.

At his suggestion, I did stock up on supplies, so I wouldn't have to trek the six mile round trip to town and back because I had forgotten in my haste to leave to actually check how far I was from the nearby village. And with the village being so remote and open, and with the townspeople most likely being wary of strangers, I didn't want to risk being seen if I chose to apparate.

I wandered through the shop; it was well stocked with what I assumed was local produce, which was confirmed by Harriet, Frank's wife, who stood smiling at me from behind the counter.

"All things local," She told me with pride, "We're out of the way here, and that's how we like it. We look after each other."

I smiled and nodded, not sure if it was a threat for an outsider like me to keep this place a secret when I went back to the city, or if she was letting me know that she understood without me telling her that I needed space.

"You're not staying long then?" Frank asked me, still eyeing my bag.

I shook my head, "No I plan to be here a while. I just pack light."

He looked at his wife and grinned, "She packs light."

I snorted a laugh at the look on Harriet's face, " _Psh_." She flapped her hand at him, "She probably has her entire wardrobe in there, look how tiny she is."

My cheeks flushed and I lowered my head at her words. I had hardly eaten in the past two weeks **,** and I could only imagine what Mrs. Connelly was thinking about my appearance. It was just one more thing I had been constantly hounded about, and another reason for me to get away. I continued around the shop, picking up things I thought I would need and would last me a week or more, so I wouldn't have to come back so soon.

"You're here alone?" Harriet asked when I dropped my purchases on the counter.

"I am," I nodded, "I just wanted to get away for a while."

" _Ah_ ," she said knowingly, "The city is no good. Fresh air is what you need. And maybe a fresh start, hmm?"

"Now Harriet," Frank cut in, "Leave the poor girl alone. It's not our business why she's here." He picked up the groceries and nodded towards the door, "If you'll follow me, Miss Granger."

I smiled, "It's Hermione, please."

"If there's anything you need, please just call us," Harriet called, "Frank will be happy to bring out anything you need."

I nodded and thanked her, waving as I followed Mr. Connelly to his car.

* * *

The storm that had been threatening, had finally set in, and the mad rush from Mr. Connelly's car to the cottage proved precarious, as I slipped and slid on the wet stones of the driveway. His hand grabbed my arm, saving me from falling on my arse and he steadied me as I climbed the few steps to the back door of the cottage.

How he was able hold me up and keep his grip on my groceries was beyond me, but he just laughed and made sure I had my feet before letting me go.

I slid the key in the lock and was surprised to find that the cottage was warm, the fire had been lit and a large stack of wood piled beside it.

"I came up here when Helen called to say you had rented the house." Mr. Connelly told me as he placed the box of groceries on the table in the kitchen. Helen Anderson, the rental agent I spoke to over the phone, had obviously made some hurried phone calls to get everything set up for me. "Storm's been threatening all morning and I didn't think you'd want a cold house."

"Thank you," I said, hardly able to take my eyes off the enormous picture window that overlooked the ragged cliffs.

"You're welcome, Miss Grang….Hermione." he smiled, "And Harriet is right, if you need anything please let us know. You don't have a car, so I'm happy to help."

I thanked him again and he turned to leave, before stopping. "Will you be alright?"

I heard the concern in his voice and realised that it was probably unusual for a single woman to be renting a cottage on her own, despite the small size of it.

"I'll be fine, Mr. Connelly. Thank you for all you help. I appreciate your kindness."

"And you're welcome." He said, his friendly smile warming my heart. He looked thoughtfully at me, "I don't mean to pry – my wife does plenty of that - but it looks like you're…"

"Running away? Hiding?" I asked and he nodded. "I'm not some famous movie star and I didn't break out of prison or anything," I assured him, "No one will come looking for me. The village won't be overrun by reporters or crazed mobs. I just needed to get away. Wake up somewhere different. That's all."

He nodded, "Well Miss…Hermione, there's plenty more wood on the porch, and again, if you need anything, let us know. And whatever it is that you need solace from, I hope you find it here."

I smiled, and thanked him again, and saw him to the door. The rain had set in, bucketing down in torrents that I was sure would last through the night, and I watched as he ran to his car and slowly drove away. I sighed, and closed the door, turning back towards the window and the rain distorted view of the cliffs and the water beyond. I bent and tossed another log of wood onto the fire, revelling in the instant warmth, and revelling in the sudden silence. I had heard nothing but noise for days, so as bracing as it was, the silence brought me the comfort I was after.

I picked up my bag and reached in. Mrs. Connelly had been almost correct. I had brought all my clothes with me, but I had also brought every other thing that I owned. I had no place for them now, not until I decided what I wanted to do.

I filled the small bookshelf with some of my books and then I made my way up the stairs. Two large bedrooms were located at the top with a bathroom separating them. I made my way into the room at the front of the cottage; a king-size bed took up a significant amount of space, with a large dresser set against the opposite wall. A comfy looking armchair with a matching ottoman was placed beside the window, and I was sure that on a clear day, the view from that chair would be spectacular.

I turned and walked into the closet, dropping my bag at my feet. I looked at the space; it was definitely designed for two. A two of which I was most assuredly no longer a part of.

I took my time, hanging my clothes, organising my shoes and filling the dresser drawers, and then left the bag, and the remainder of its hidden contents, in the corner of the closet. Closing the door I turned and looked at the bed. A king-size would hardly be necessary, but the window faced the sea and I wanted to wake up with that view. I had rented the cottage open-ended, the rental agent saying that it wouldn't be a problem at this time of year. The holidays were over and tourist weren't tempted to stay on the cliffs as the weather grew colder and the storms rolled in.

I trudged back downstairs and took in the room. It was warm and cosy and quiet. It was simple and clean and comfortable. And it was exactly where I wanted to be.

The walls were whitewashed and the floors were polished hardwood. Exposed wooden beams crossed the roof and lent to the cosy warmth. A large woven rug with a diamond pattern sat beneath the two large, comfy looking leather couches that filled the living area, with a roughened wooden coffee table separating them.

A small table made from what I suspected was the same wood as the coffee table was pushed against one wall near the kitchen, with four chairs placed around it, and the kitchen itself was spacious and well equipped.

I unloaded the groceries into the fridge and cupboards and filled the kettle. I made my way back to the window, seeming to be drawn by the ragged cliffs and the sandy stretch of deserted beach. The day had grown dull, the afternoon light fading as the storm continued.

From the back door, a small, covered deck extended across the rear of the house, and a set of steps led down the cliff to the sandy shore below. If the storm kept up, it would be days before I headed down. The driveway had almost claimed me, so I didn't trust myself on slick, wooden steps.

I looked up the hill and noted that there were only three houses along this mile-long stretch of coast. My small cottage; another slightly larger than mine sat in the dip of the cliffs; and the third sat high up on the bluff, large and imposing, and if the warm glow of lights from the expanse of glass that overlooked the water was anything to go by, it was clearly occupied.

I had hoped that I would have this small stretch of coast to myself, but I guessed that was just a pipe dream. But since the house was far enough away I concluded that I wouldn't have to see my neighbours.

I sighed, a feeling of contentment washed over me; a feeling that had all but deserted me. No one was here to judge me, or tell me how I should feel, or even worse, tell me they knew how I felt.

Because none of them did. None of them knew the hurt or the anguish or the nauseating feeling that gripped your stomach every time you let the picture flash in your mind. The picture that you tried so hard to push from your memory, the picture that you never, ever thought you would see.

No. They had no clues. They could only presume how I felt and could only sympathise with me as such. None of them had had experienced the heartbreak, nor the devastation, that I had been subjected to. Nor had they felt the gut wrenching guilt that I had instantly felt, and the absurd notion that I had that it was all my fault.

The kettle whistled, pulling me from my stupor, and I made myself some tea. I grabbed a book and settled on the couch. I closed my eyes. The sounds of the wind and the rain, of the waves crashing against the shore, of the fire in the hearth filled my senses and my idea of perfection settled over me.

I had run away. Run away like a child throwing a tantrum. My friends would be going insane, but I didn't care.

I had space, I had quiet, and I had my own company.

I needed this. I needed it more than I needed anything.

And right now, that was all I cared about.

* * *

I woke with a start, slightly disorientated. I sat up and took in my surroundings.

The room was cold and dark. The fire had died down to just glowing embers, and I was still on the couch. The sky outside was dark, the storm still raging, and the brightness of the flashes of lightening lit up the room. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was almost nine-thirty, which meant I had been sleeping for almost six hours. The quiet was exactly what I needed, it seemed. I had barely slept that many hours in the previous two weeks, let alone one evening.

I stood, shivering and loaded up the fire with more wood. I found the light switch and the room was instantly bathed in light. And to no surprise, there were three sodden owls sitting huddled together, perched on my windowsill.

I hurried over and let them in, they all shimmied and shook, their feathers dripping water across the clean floor as they settled on the stair railing. Unrolling the parchment tied to each one, I wasn't surprised that they all were panicked messages from my friends, wondering where in the hell I was.

I scrawled a reply on the back of one, explaining that I was perfectly fine, that I was safe and no, I wouldn't tell them where I was. I would contact them if I needed anything, and could they all please just give me some space. I reattached it to Harry's owl, and sent them all on their way, knowing that it wouldn't be the last I saw of them.

I found a mop and cleaned up the wet floor, deciding that while I was here I would use a little magic as possible as a means to do all the mundane things that would take time and hopefully occupy my mind. I made my way back over to the window. The lights were still on in the house on the cliff, and I wondered if the occupants were surprised to see my little cottage suddenly lit up so late in the evening. I'm sure there was a reason that they had chosen that exact place along the high bluffs; it was even more isolated and private than where I was. And I hoped that meant they had no interest in making me feel welcome.

I didn't need questions as to why I was there, or why I was alone.

I scowled up at the house, at my neighbours, hoping that I could somehow telepathically let them know to stay away from me. To not see me and wave, to not drop in and assume that since we were neighbours, we should all be friendly.

And then I laughed.

I pressed my fingers to my eyes and asked myself what the hell I was doing. Not everyone wanted to know all about me. And I was sure that my neighbours would be the last people to even care who I was or why I was there.

I took a breath and turned to the stairs, making my way up to the bedroom that overlooked the sea. I pulled back the covers on the enormous bed and slid in, not caring that I was still fully clothed. I wasn't sure if I would sleep, considering my extended nap on the couch, but with the lightning and the rain, it didn't matter. I would have something to watch, something to take my thoughts away.

I pulled the covers under my chin, enveloping myself in the comfort of the warm bed. I took a deep breath – the first I had taken in what seemed like forever – and let it out slowly.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and for the first time since my life imploded, I let myself cry.

 


	2. Chapter 2

******* DRACO *******

* * *

 

I stood staring out at the sea as the rain hammered against the window. The storm was doing nothing to ease the pounding in my head. Neither was the scotch that had been my companion for most of the afternoon and evening.

My day had turned to shit. And owing to my barely controlled temper, and under the orders of my assistant, I had left work just after lunch and had been drowning myself in my father's 30 year-old  _Balvenie_ , a bottle for which I assumed he had been waiting for the perfect occasion to open.

It was ironic really, that my father and his absolute detest of anything muggle, preferred ridiculously expensive muggle scotch over anything else. This bottle had cost him a not so small fortune, but I could have cared less. It was now mine to drink when I pleased.

And it pleased me to do so right then.

What hadn't pleased me was the arrival of someone at the cottage I owned at the bottom of the cliff.

I had watched out my kitchen window as Frank's car pulled into the driveway of the small cottage and I scowled as he and another figure emerged from the car and made a mad dash for the door. It had amused me to no end, however, when the smaller figure slipped on the stones and would have fallen on their arse if not for Frank. He had righted them, and they had both disappeared into the house.

I owned all three houses along the cliff and had refused to allow anyone to stay in the one closest to mine. It was far enough away that if someone was staying it, I wouldn't have to deal with them, but I didn't want anyone in it. In fact, I would have had it demolished if not for some inane muggle law that disallowed me to.

And I cursed myself for not taking the smaller house off the rental market as well. I could have spent the weekend up here alone, not having to worry if my new neighbour would want to make nice and become my new best friend. I would ensure that didn't happen. I had no desire to make nice with the people around me, especially not ones who arrived for the weekend and then headed back to the city to brag to their friends how they 'found themselves' in the fresh air of the coast.

I was raw and anxious after my day, and the arrival of someone in the lower cottage had put me even more on edge. There was no reason to think that this person would even leave the house, considering the storm and the fact I was sure it had set in for the entire weekend, and I hoped that it was true.

My mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts, despite the half drunk bottle on the table. I thought back to my breakfast meeting that morning and my temper flared again. I had been eagerly anticipating the meeting with Myles Prescott, but things had taken an unexpected turn. The promise of a new partnership was already sunk before we had even gotten started.

My name apparently didn't sit well, nor did my image. I may have carried my father's name, but I had turned myself inside out in an attempt to distance myself as far from him as possible. However, it seemed that the events of the war had done irreparable damage amongst some.

"You're drinking without me?"

I didn't even turn at the sound of the voice behind me.

"And it's Lucius' most protected bottle." Blaise sniggered, "The man will have your balls for this."

"He'll be dead and buried before he can even think about coming near me again." I snapped.

Blaise chuckled again and I heard the clink of glass against glass as he helped himself to my father's finest. He said nothing as he stood beside me, but I noted the sharp intake of breath as he took his first sip.

I grinned from beside him; my father's finest indeed.

"You want to tell me about this morning?" he asked, a note of caution in his voice.

"Prescott has decided not to deal with us." I said, "My image is not the one he wished to be associated with."

Blaise hummed from beside me. We had both known Myles Prescott for years, his family had been sitting on the on the fringe of the pureblood believers, torn between loyalty to my father and the Death Eaters, and distancing themselves from pureblood beliefs. But, despite the fence-sitting, I had assumed that he would take into account that fact that Lucius – in his one and only redeeming act - had insisted that his family not be harmed in any way. (I have no idea why, and with the dealings that Lucius had, I truly did not want to know.)

But Lucius was long gone, and I truly could not understand the sudden turnaround from Myles. Business had been good, I had worked hard and over the course of time, my name had come to mean little to most people. The gossip and the looks and the questions had all but died down, and people were happy to deal with us.

It was why I lived up here on this secluded cliff. I had figured if I stayed low and kept my face out of the public's eyes, my name would slowly disappear and I could step out of the shadow it had created. I had built the house and purchased the other two, in an attempt to keep my privacy and so far it had worked.

I used the floo network to get to and from my office, and Frank and Harriet ensured that no one knew the name of the man who lived on the hill. My face was hardly seen in London, and only Blaise, Pansy and my mother knew where I lived. My face had become all but forgotten, and I had become simply just another businessman in wizarding society.

But the turn of events that morning had thrown me. If Myles didn't want to associate with me, who else wouldn't?

Blaise took a sip of his drink and let out another nod of approval, "We've done well so far. If one or two suppliers fall away, so be it. They'll realise what they've missed out on in due course."

"That's what I told Myles. But the board has apparently made their decision." I let out a long sigh, "And you know damned well, it's not been just one or two, Blaise. We've lost four in as many weeks."

"So show them that they're wrong." He said with a shrug, "Show them that Draco Malfoy is nothing like the name that precedes him."

I shook my head, "But this is what I don't understand. It's been a year and no one has had any problems with me, or my name. And suddenly, we have suppliers deserting us for no apparent reason." I paused. "No mention of the image that Zabini or Parkinson project, just Malfoy. I guess my name  _does_ precede me. Everyone hears my name and instantly thinks Lucius. And Death Eater. Nothing's changed at all."

He looked at me for several seconds and then nodded slowly, "Then we have to change their minds."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"We stick with our original plan." Blaise said. "I imagine that she's probably in need of a job. I can't see her staying at The Ministry if that fucker is still there."

"That's impossible now." I said resolutely. I took a step back and retrieved  _The Daily Prophet_  from the table and handed it to him, "You haven't seen this yet?"

He took the newspaper from me, and I could tell from the look on his face that he hadn't yet seen it. The headline had shocked me. She was missing. Disappeared into thin air and no one knew where she was. It was a far cry from the sordid details that had been a constant the past few weeks.

I looked at Blaise and he was staring back at me, eyes wide. "Shit. This makes sense as to why Pans left without a word this morning."

I nodded in agreement. Pansy had left in a hurry mid-morning without a word. I had assumed it was important and she would let us know as soon as she could. I hadn't given her absence too much thought; I was far too lost in my own head.

"I doubt that they'll find her. This is Granger after all." I was right. If she didn't want to be found, there was no way in hell that she would be.

I hated to admit it, but I had followed the story since it broke a just over two weeks ago. I rarely looked at the Daily Prophet, hating the gossip rag it had turned into. But when Pansy and Blaise shocked me to my core with what had happened, I had read every word that had been printed, and had cursed that fuckers name every day since.

The story was that she had walked into his office and found the red-headed weasel with his pants around his ankles, buried balls deep in some skanky, fame hungry groupie. And the story also was that this wasn't the first time he had done it. Apparently this was just one in a string of women he had been seen entering his office with. There hadn't been any proof, of course, entering an office with a woman hadn't necessarily meant anything untoward was going on, but when those meetings took place late at night, or when the woman you were supposed to be madly in love with was travelling on Ministry business, suspicions were raised.

Granger had been completely unaware of the infidelities of her childhood sweetheart; the imbecile had been just cagey enough to hide it from her and everyone else he knew. But he was obviously not cagey enough. Granger had apparently returned early from a Ministry meeting, and that's when all hell broke loose. The image of Ginny Weasley – or should I say Potter – punching her brother's face was one I took great pleasure in seeing.

And what a fucking imbecile he was. He had scored the perfect woman; talented, smart, gorgeous, and way out of his league. Every man I knew had looked at the idiot with a twinge of jealously for his being with her; every Ministry Ball, every public celebration, every gossip column picture; there he was clutching her to him like he owned her. He didn't deserve her. And to prove my point, the brainless idiot simply threw her away. He should have been grateful, should have worshipped at her feet, but instead the stupid prat went looking for pussy that was more suited to his over-inflated ego and his tiny little dick.

It had not been a surprise to my closest friends that I had fallen for her. It had, in fact, been more of a surprise to me that they were aware of my feelings. Pansy had laughed at my stupidity, telling me that she had known for years that Hermione Granger was the one person who had gotten under my skin; she was smarter than me, and more talented, and that despite my pure-blood upbringing,  _way_  beyond my reach. And Pansy had delighted in reminding me as often as she could.

However, the friendship that had cropped up between Granger and Pansy had been a complete shock, considering the hatred and loathing that was shared between them at school.

Granger's job at The Ministry, where she had worked alongside Longbottom in their Magical Plants and Herbs department, had put her in direct contact with us at our newly established,  _MZP Potions_. The Ministry (which I assumed out of suspicion at first, I was sure that they wanted to keep a close eye on everything we were doing) had requested that she be the liaison with us, and she had become the direct contact between The Ministry and our company.

Blaise had laughingly explained that after several awkward and somewhat stilted meetings, Granger had finally insisted that Pansy get over her ridiculous pure-blood beliefs and deal with her as an equal, that she should pull her head out of her arse and realise that Hermione Granger was actually quite interesting if she would just give her the chance.

And it was through that friendship their Blaise and I had hatched our plan to invite her on board with us. As well as being the most highly talented Herbologist around, she was exactly what we needed to improve our image, but the timing of the Weasel's wandering dick had made it impossible to approach her. Pansy wouldn't allow it, and Potter – both Harry and Ginny - would have killed us had we gone near her.

And now she had vanished. And with Pansy leaving the office early, I was sure that the panic amongst them all had set in. But this was Granger. I knew she was capable of looking out for herself, and if she thought hiding was her best option, then all the panicked friends in the world wouldn't find her.

Blaise let out a long breath, "That fucker. He screwed her over royally and us too."

"I'm not sure we should really put ourselves in the same boat as her." I said dryly.

Blaise pointed his finger at me and conceded the point. He looked at the paper again, "I'm surprised she hasn't killed him by now. She could do it. No one would care." He shrugged, "Maybe his mother, but who knows when it comes to Molly Weasley?"

I moved from the window when I saw the lights flick on in the cottage below. I was sure that whoever it was that was down there couldn't see me, but I didn't want to take the chance. Blaise frowned at me, and then followed my eyes to the cliff below.

"Someone staying down there?"

I nodded, "Frank dropped her...him off today."

He leaned against the glass, looking down towards the house, "You don't know?"

I shook my head, "And I don't care to know. I'm hoping that they stay for the weekend and then head back to wherever it they came from."

He turned back to me, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Maybe she's some hot piece and you can get your rocks off. How long's it been?"

Rolled up the paper and threw it at him. He ducked, laughing and sat opposite me.

"Our plan can still work," He said, "She'll come back when she's ready and we can pounce. Offer her refuge in our greenhouse where no one will see her and she won't say no."

I slumped against the back of the couch and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Blaise was right. Our plan was perfect, but we would have to wait. And for how long, I had no idea.

I looked at him and nodded, "Yeah, we'll wait it out. Offer her an obscene amount of money so she can't refuse."

He rubbed his hands together before refilling both our glasses. I should have refused; my afternoon of scotch was clouding my brain. "Excellent.' He said, "And you will wander down the hill tomorrow and say hello to your neighbour. You need to get laid."

"And if it's a guy?"

He shrugged, "Does it matter when it's been a while?"

I rolled my eyes, "You're lucky I'm already half drunk, or I'd kick your arse."

He slid the glass across the table and put his feet up. He winked at me, "She'll be back. And if she accepts your offer, who knows? Maybe you'll get your wish and she'll accept more."

* * *

_"Are you going to dance with me?" She asked in a low voice that caused my breath to catch. She was pressed up against me, her hands griping my shirt._

_"I don't dance," I murmured against the shell of her ear._

_She kissed the side of my throat and I let out quiet groan, "Liar," she told me and ran her hand over my arse, "Yes you do." She took my hand and led me to the dance floor, smiling seductively over her shoulder at me._

_I pulled her against me, her back pressed firmly against my chest. I slid my hands down her body, moving slowly over every curve, coming to rest on her waist as she rolled her hips against my pelvis, smirking over her shoulder at me when she brushed against my growing arousal. The music was pumping through us, the bass lines pulsing in time with our swaying movements. She turned in my arms, and smiled up at me. She pressed her hand to my chest and slowly dragged it down my torso, going lower and lower, until-_

I shot bolt upright, breathing hard, a pool of sweat had made my sheets damp and I was as hard as a rock. I looked around wildly, actually feeling the other side of the bed just to make sure it was a dream; that she wasn't in the bed beside me.

I flopped back down and groaned. The headache that was threatening the previous day had turned into a full-blown marching band stomping through my head. And of course, the copious amounts of scotch hadn't helped.

I threw my arm across my eyes to shield them from the morning light flooding into my room. The rain was still pouring down, but the light was a little too much for my hangover to contend with. My throat was dry and my mouth full of cotton. I should have known better than to open that bottle with Blaise. My only hope was that he was feeling the same. But since I already had half the bottle drunk by the time he had arrived, I highly doubted it.

It wasn't the first time I had dreamed about her. Not even close. And since the story broke, she had been a constant player when I closed my eyes at the end of the day.

She was everything, so close to perfection, and the intense longing I felt for her was made more so with everything that had happened. Anger flared in me every time I thought about what he'd done to her, and the hatred I had had for him increased tenfold.

But I knew that I was torturing myself with a fantasy that would never be anything more than that; a fantasy. She wasn't interested in me. How could she be? I hadn't actually spoken directly to her for months. And before that, it had only been on Ministry visits and we had shared no more than a few words. And besides all of that, I was sure that she hated me.

And she had every right to hate me. I'd given her every reason to. I'd treated her with such distain and disrespect, I was surprised that the punch that she had landed on my face all those years ago was the worst I had received from her. It was the only time I had ever elicited a response from her. She had spent most of our years at school ignoring me, or showing me up in class. And it should have burned me, but it didn't. It had actually had the opposite effect on me. I had fallen for her, and fallen hard.

And I was now lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my cock hard and unsatisfied. I grabbed my wand from the nightstand and aimed it towards the curtains, shutting them, and the light out.

It was Saturday morning and I had nowhere to be. I would usually run out and back along the mile-long stretch of beach, but with the rain still teeming, my head pounding, and my lack of want to make my presence known to whoever it was in the cottage, I saw no reason to get out of bed.

So I pulled the covers back over my head, blocking out the light entirely and lamented the fact that the one person who I truly wanted in my life had up and disappeared and I had no idea of just how to find her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

******* HERMIONE *******

* * *

 

A week had gone by, and the pouring rain had finally had eased to a drizzle. I had spent a fitful week not sleeping and listening to the storm rage outside each night. My irrational fear of thunder had me curled in a ball buried beneath the covers, and the light left on.

My first morning in my little place of refuge had been spent on the couch reading, with a half-eaten piece of toast on the coffee table and a cold cup of tea beside it. My appetite had not returned, and the toast had been an internal fight with my conscience. I knew I had to eat, but nothing had any taste, and the way my stomach churned at the thought of food, I wasn't sure I could keep much down anyway.

And I had not improved over the course of the week. Surviving on little more than tea and water and the occasional bite of toast. And the weather wasn't helping. The tension that had begun to leave me when I had first arrived, had built back up – I hated thunder – and I had begun to question whether I had actually made the right choice. The days were fine, but the nights were my own personal hell.

But as the storm eased, and the rain turned to mist, I felt the sudden urge to go outside and feel the wind on my face. I put my beanie on – rueing the fact that Molly had been the one who had knitted it for me - pulled on my coat and I hauled myself out of the cottage. I took the steps slowly, but despite the rain soaking them to a slippery hazard, I wanted to get to the beach.

The air was fresh, made clear by the rain, and the wind was like ice as it flicked against my face. I breathed it in, the salty tang of the sea air filling my lungs and burning my chest.

I slowly made my way down the stairs, slipping about halfway down, but I refused to give in and turn back. I wanted to get to the beach, needed to get to the beach. I took each step one at a time, and when I finally stepped off the last wooden plank, I let out a shaky breath. The sea was choppy and angry, as if it was waiting for me to make my way to the beach and could show me that it was sympathising with me.

I felt tears slip from my eyes, again, and I wiped them away. I wouldn't allow the hurt and pain I felt come with me, wouldn't the angry beauty of the sea in front of me be entwined with the memory of him.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and wandered along the wet sand to the jagged outcrop of rocks at the end of the beach. I took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, as if clearing the negativity from my soul. I stood watching the sea for several long minutes before turning and following my footprints back along the sand. Halfway back I stopped and plonked myself down, kicking off my canvas shoes and pulling my knees to my chest, and wrapping my coat tightly around me. I closed my eyes and just breathed. The wind, and the waves, and the occasional seabird were the only sounds I could hear. The seclusion settled my frayed nerves, and I felt like I was the only person on the planet.

And I hoped that the seclusion would help me find the calm I needed to clear my head. I wanted to put Ronald Weasley behind me, but it was still so raw and the hurt I felt was unlike anything I had ever known. And I was embarrassed by my own naivety, the whole truth gnawing at me and causing me to question how I had been so stupid as not to see it.

We had argued constantly about how he wanted to live in the spotlight, but how I hated it. We argued about work and marriage, and how he wanted to start a family, and how I wasn't ready for any of that. In fact, we had argued more often than not in the past year, but I told myself that it was normal, that we'd been together for six years and that there were bound to be hiccups.

And the most heartbreaking thing of all was that I had been so committed to Ron that I had been oblivious to the signs. Signs which were so obvious in hindsight. More and more late nights at the office; more and more overnight travel with the Aurors; more and more 'strategy' meetings that included dinner, but not wives or girlfriends. And the biggest clue? About a year before, Ron had started using condoms again. And I blindly accepted his explanation that since I was the one that had been so against starting a family, he was simply following my wishes and ensuring that I wouldn't become pregnant before I was ready.

I had thought it incredibly considerate and thoughtful. And rather stupidly, it just made me love him more.

And of course, the worst part of it all was that I had believed him. Had believed that he was faithful and committed, despite the disagreements we had had. I had believed him when he had said he would wait until I was ready.

And then I walked in on him doing the exact same thing I had asked him to do with me. Sex on his desk; sex on the couch, sex in the shower; sex anywhere else but the bed. But he had refused, asking me what would happen if we were caught. And he wasn't just worried about being caught at work. In his mind, anyone could walk into our house, at any time of the day, and if we  _were_  on the couch naked, what would they think?

I had relented and gave up trying to make him more adventurous, settling for just unsatisfying bedroom sex, believing his stories of being shy and reserved, of being cautious. And believing his romantic lines – at least I thought they were romantic at the time – of not wanting to even take the chance of anyone else seeing me in the way that only he wanted to see me.

I had gone over and over that fateful day – more times than any sane person should – and what I came up with was anger. Anger at myself for being so blindly stupid, but mostly anger at him. And I had asked myself repeatedly,  _why_? Why would he do that with her, and not me? Why did he not think of me like that, even though I had made it perfectly clear that it was exactly what I had wanted?

But I also told myself that my obliviousness to his infidelities were nothing on his ignorance when it came to the attention I received. I may have been completely blind to his actions behind my back, but the one thing I hadn't failed to notice was the sidelong glances and stares whenever we were seen in public. I knew how other men looked at me, and on more than one occasion I had had offers, but I had dutifully ignored them since I assumed that Ron was as committed to me as I was to him.

My friends all told me not to blame myself, but I couldn't stop. And I didn't want to torture myself over it, but it was who I was; the obsessive, the planner, the over-thinker. I never acted on impulse, and I hated surprises. It was maybe why I acted as I did when I found him.

My friends had also told me (to the point where I had become sick of it) that they would have sent him flying through the nearest window. But none of them had been there, none of them had experienced it, none of them knew the gut-dropping sensation I had felt when I had walked into that room.

And I say gut-dropping because that's what it was. There was no heartbreak, no sense of wanting to cry, just the instant rush of adrenaline that made me sick to my stomach, and I instantly understood the fight or flight reaction that naturally occurred within the body. There had been no question as to what my response would be, and maybe he had known it. I had stood up and faced more in my short life than anyone should have, but in this instance, flight had been my only instinct.

And when the truth came out – the whole truth - and numerous women were lining up to be known as one of  _the women_  who had been just another of Ronald Weasley's conquests, I had been physically ill.

One woman I could have accepted - I would never forgive him of course - but if the woman I had caught him with had been the only one, I could have walked away with my head held high. But as the number rapidly grew and rose above double digits, I just looked more and more pathetic.

I was the woman who failed to see her boyfriend's wandering eye. I was the woman who had failed to notice the growing number of late nights and weekends at work. I was the woman who had failed to notice the lack of affection being shown to her at home – or anywhere, for that matter. All the classic signs and I was too blindly stupid to see them.

I opened my eyes, resting my chin on my knees and looked back out over the water. My tears had returned, but this time I let them fall. I felt lost. Completely overwhelmed and struggling to keep my thoughts lined up. A deep seated ache had built up within me, an ache that seemed to have set in and I wondered if it would ever leave.

I dug my toes into the cool sand, feeling the rough grains rub against my skin. I wasn't sure how I would do it, but I had to find a way to move forward, to forget the pain and the hurt and the betrayal.

I looked out over the sea, and whispered a quiet  _help._  There was something, something calming and peaceful about the raging water in front of me. Maybe it would take away my anger, take away all the bitterness, all the hurt. I could scream at it, toss all my feelings into it, and the tides would carry those emotions away.

I picked up the small white pebble that was lying beside my foot. I ran my thumb across the smooth surface and closed my eyes, "Please," I whispered and got to my feet. I walked the short distance to the edge of the shore, the icy water lapping at my toes. I looked at the pebble and whispered  _please help_ ,  _please take it all away_ , and reached my arm back, and then I flung the tiny stone as far out into the sea as I could.

I wasn't sure what I was asking, or if I was going insane – which was more likely - but somehow the simple act of throwing a tiny pebble into the sea had made me feel lighter. I exhaled. I didn't care if the feeling lasted for only a minute. I would take it.

And if throwing stones into the sea each day was the act that took the hurt away, I would spend my days down here, on the beach, tossing my life into the water, and hoping that the water would give me something beautiful in return.

* * *

 

********* DRACO *********

* * *

 

I blinked my eyes open, the room was still dark, but the sound of the rain had finally ceased. My week had been hellish, to say the least, and my temper had flared more times than it had in months, which had left me feeling exhausted and my nerves frayed.

I hauled my sorry arse out of bed and threw back the curtains, and was pleased to see that a light drizzle had replaced the steady rain. I stretched my arms over my head, curling my neck from side to side, pulling the remnants of sleep out of my body.

I looked down at myself, and smirked. Another brilliant reason to not have neighbours; I could stand naked in front of my windows and not have to worry about being seen. But then again, maybe I wouldn't really care.

Deciding not to roam around naked – I never knew when Blaise or Pansy would just show up - I pulled on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt and made my way downstairs. I started coffee and opened the fridge, standing there for half a minute, before deciding there was nothing I wanted and shut the door again.

It was through Grangers' influence that I no longer had a house elf, and I had learned to take care of myself. My fantasy of being with her had caused many changes in my life which at one time I would never have thought possible. Of course I would never admit it was her doing, so I had made up a story of how I wanted no part of my father's influence, and I refused to live in the manner with which he had poisoned my mind. It had been a complete disaster at first, but my stubbornness and sheer determination had seen me through. I learned how to cook, I could clean and I could take care of myself. But on mornings like these, I wished for someone to do it all for me

I took my coffee to the window and looked out, enjoying the quiet moments before the inevitable panic of the week from hell set it. The sky was still dull and overcast, the low clouds indicating that the storm was nowhere near finished, and my initial thoughts of maybe going for a run to clear the fog in my head were pushed aside. If the storm did kick up again, I didn't want to get caught out in it; pissed off and drenched was not something that I wanted to be.

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention and my gaze drifted down the hill. A small figure – female if the pink woollen hat was anything to go by – was making its way slowly down the steps that led from the deck at the back of the cottage to the beach below. I watched with baited breath, as she took each step carefully - the planks of the stairs were steep and precarious enough when they were dry, they would be a near death trap after the storm – and winced as she slipped and almost lost her footing midway down. She gripped the railing and paused, and I could almost read her thoughts. She wasn't giving up. She was determined to reach the bottom, and the wet stairs wouldn't stop her.

I let out the breath I was holding when her feet finally hit the sand, relieved that she had made it safely. I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt that way; a week ago I would have happily let my neighbour slide on her arse all the way to the bottom, and probably laughed gleefully at her misfortune. But there was something, something I couldn't quiet place. She looked tiny and fragile, and the way she was curled into herself, gave me the feeling that she was not some tourist that had come here to find herself, but someone who was completely lost, and had no idea where to start looking.

I watched, like some weird, creepy stalker, as she paced first up and then back down the sand, her head bowed and her hands gripping her jacket tightly around her, before plopping down and curling even deeper into herself. And she sat like a statue, not moving, just staring out over the water. But I had become the same. My coffee long forgotten, my body as still as stone, as if even the sound of one breath from me would disturb her.

And she sat frozen for what seemed like hours. I couldn't see anything that had drawn her attention, no unmoored boats, or even some stray sea creature that had lost its way, just the wide open expanses of the sea.

The urge to pull on my running gear, to make a show of not noticing that she was there as I ran along the shore, was overwhelming. But I resisted. She was obviously here alone, and there must have been a reason for it. And she certainly didn't need some weird stranger running past her and scaring her senseless.

And then she stood, suddenly, surprising me out of my stupor. She walked towards the water and stood motionless for several seconds, and then lifted her arm and flung it at the waves. She turned and made her way back up the steps, taking her time. Her head was still bowed, so I couldn't see her face, not that it would have made any difference. From this distance her features would all be a blur.

She stopped when she reached the deck at the front of the cottage and turned back to the water. The drizzle had become rain and had gained strength, but she didn't seem at all bothered by it at all. She pulled the pink hat off her head and tossed it into the sky, and I smiled as the wind picked up her hair, blowing her dark locks across her face.

She raised her face and I watched as she lifted her arms in some kind of benediction to the sky. Whatever she had thrown into the water had clearly had an effect on her, as if she had just ridded herself of some weight that had been holding her down.

Her head shifted and she looked up towards my house. I doubted that she would see me watching her from where I was, but I instinctively took a step back from the window.

I wasn't sure what had happened, but a sudden need to help her washed over me. And I wasn't sure how I knew it, but something had happened in her life that had caused her great distress, and all at once I wanted to rush down there, to knock on her door and let her know that I was here if she needed anything. It was a feeling that was almost foreign, and it was a feeling that I had seldom felt – if ever.

I shook my head and told myself to calm down, to not be that crazy neighbour who I was just last night telling myself not to be.

I peered back out the window and she was gone. I sighed, my disappointment heavy. I didn't even know her; in fact I had made it my mission to avoid being seen by her. For all I knew she  _was_  some crazy tourist out here to find her inner goddess. But something about her, about her fragility, about her stature, about her awakening that had occurred on the deserted beach intrigued me.

And my neighbour, who this past week I had no desire to meet, suddenly became my focus.

I had to find out more.

 


	4. Chapter 4

****** DRACO ******

* * *

I woke early, scrambling out of bed to drag my running skins over my legs and shrugging into a thermal long sleeve. My runners were at the door and I pulled them on, hopping from one foot to the other in my hurried attempt to get out the door. I had seen her on the beach every day in the past week and hoped that she would be down there this morning so I could let her know that she wasn't alone along the stretch of cliffs. Of course, the lights on in my house would have been a dead give away, but that was beside the point.

I grabbed my beanie from the hook beside the door and headed out, taking my time on the wet steps that led from my own deck to the beach. My house was higher up than the small cottage, which meant almost double the steps. The decent was fine; it was the climb back up after a five mile run that was torture.

I followed the zig-zagging steps until I hit the beach. The stretch of sand between my stairs and the rocky outcrop past the beach below the cottage was just a little over a mile long and I usually looped around twice. And today would be no different.

My father would have thought me insane, and probably would have had me locked away, if he could see me; running, in muggle clothes, and lusting after my muggle neighbour. But he mattered not. I enjoyed the freedom that running had brought me, and it had been over a week since I'd hit the sand. And regardless of my want to be seen by my new neighbour, a beach run was what I needed to clear my head.

I glanced up to the small cottage as I headed down the beach, the curtains were open across the front but there were no obvious signs of there being anyone inside. My disappointment was palpable; I'd had high hopes of seeing her or even of her being on the beach, and maybe this time I would have gotten to see her face.

I continued past the house and tried to put her out of my mind. I ran across the hard sand, focusing on the outcrop at the end of the beach. Reaching the rocks, I turned and headed back the way I came. I glanced at the stairs and my disappointment doubled. There was no neighbour to smile and wave at as I passed by.

I shook my head and ran on. This was insane. I was insane. A week ago, Blaise was reminding me of my long-held fantasy of Granger, and she was still making appearances in my dreams. And now, here I was longing to meet a complete stranger and I had no idea why.

I reached the halfway point of my run – the base of the stairs that lead back up to my house - and turned back around, making my way back along the shoreline. I slowed my pace; there was no need to push myself so hard on a Sunday morning. So I slowed to an easy jog and took in my surroundings, the sea was still choppy and rough, and the sand hard and compacted from the rain. But the air was crisp, the cold air almost burning my lungs as I breathed hard.

I had never been one to appreciate the simplicities of nature, nor had I ever pictured myself living anywhere else but at The Manor, but out here, away from the maddening pace of the city, away from the burden of my father's legacy, away from the prying eyes and whispers, I could breathe. The sea air was so clear it tasted clean. And the sheer drop of the cliffs, the beach and the ever-changing temperament of the water all lent themselves to a beauty that I enjoyed being surrounded by.

And the sky seemed to be endless. The horizon was so far in the distance that on a clear day, it seemed impenetrable. And even when the storms rolled in, nothing was lost. If anything, the dark clouds and the lightening just enhanced the view. It was why I had built my house on the cliff. It was why I had bought the other two houses.

I paused as I reached the rocks again, looking out over the sea, and grimacing at the low cloud rolling back in. I had timed my run perfectly, it seemed. I would have just enough time to make it back to the house before the next wave of this seemingly endless storm hit.

I turned back and almost stopped dead. She was almost at the bottom of the steps, and a nervous knot formed in my stomach, and I found that I was actually hesitant to run towards her. I was sure that she would have seen me running across the sand, but she had either not seen me return, or had decided to say hello.

I desperately hoped for the latter, so I walked slowly towards her, not wanting to startle her when she finally looked up.

I kept my eyes on her as I drew nearer. She still hadn't looked up. She was barefoot and was tracing her toe in the loose sand at the bottom of the steps. Her face was covered by her hair and I watched as she wiped one hand across her cheek, and I suddenly hated that I was there. She didn't need me to see her, not if she was crying, not if she was upset. She needed space, needed to be alone. What she didn't need was a crazy stranger ogling her in the vulnerable state she was in.

She finally looked up and this time I did stop dead. My heart began racing.

_Merlin's balls!_ It wasn't possible. She couldn't be standing just meters away from me.

And she was staring back at me, her eyes as wide as mine. And despite her stunned expression, I couldn't help but notice that she looked tired. Her skin was pale and her dark eyes looked heavy and weary. And even under her heavy coat, I could see that she was far too thin.

"Granger?" I said stepping closer to her, "Is that you?"

Her spine stiffened and she took a step back. "Malfoy?" She whispered, her voice so quiet I barely heard the word.

I nodded, holding my hand out as if she was a frightened animal about to flee, "Are you okay?"

She cringed away, her shoulders hunching and her eyes dropping to her feet. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't find you." I said quietly, "I live right up there."

She lifted her head to look at me, and then followed my hand to where I was pointing towards my house on top of the cliff. She looked back at me and her brow creased **.**

"You're lying. You live at the Manor," She stated and then began to back away.

"No," I said, shaking my head, "Not anymore. I haven't lived there for a long time."

Her skin became even paler and she looked shaken, "You didn't see me Malfoy," She hissed and turned to the stairs.

Unthinking, I lunged forward and grabbed her arm, stopping her. She flinched and I instantly released my grip, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry," I said, "But I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I assure you, I have no intentions of telling anyone where you are."

She shot me a look of disbelief, "Yeah, right. I have no doubt that you'd enjoy being the one who discovered where I was and sprout that you found pathetic Hermione Granger to the press."

"If I told them where you were, they'd know where I was." I said calmly, "Why do you think I live up here?"

She still looked sceptical. So I smiled and took half a step back, putting some distance between us and hopefully giving her the idea that I meant her no harm.

"You have my word Granger. You're safe here. No one will know where you are. Not because of me, anyway."

She simply stared back at me, before turning and starting up the stairs.

"Granger?" I called and she turned back to face me, "I'm just up the hill." I wanted her to know that I was nearby, that I was close if she needed anything. But I knew that she had to be the one to the one to decide if she needed anything from me.

She gave me a puzzled look and I nodded and walked away.

* * *

 

I was dressed and ready for work early the next morning, but I could hardly drag myself away from the window that faced the cottage below. I'd been standing there for the last thirty minutes, my coffee had gone cold and there had been no sign of her; the curtains were drawn, no smoke rose from the chimney, no figure sat like a statue on the beach.

I had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night after my surprise encounter with Granger on the beach. I'd been shocked. Of all the people that I had pictured the woman staying in the cottage being, she had most definitely not been one of them. And the sight of her had caused an ache in my heart. Her expression was one of sadness, of distress, of a hurt so deep that her face was more vulnerable than I could ever have imagined. The strong, resilient Granger that I had known was gone. And in her place was a fragile, timid waif. She was so pale and drawn that she was almost a ghost.

And I hadn't thought it possible, but I hated that bastard even more. He had betrayed her and had broken her trust, had broken her. And it had taken everything I had to not wrap my arms around her and tell her that I was not him, that I wouldn't hurt her, that she was so much more than he ever deserved.

But seeing her reaction when she saw me, her instant fear that I would tell the world where she was, made me flinch. I had treated her so badly for so long I shouldn't have really been surprised. All those years of being completely besotted with her, but treating her like she was nothing more than dirt, were now coming back to bite me. Her complete distrust of me was well deserved.

And now I had to leave. Had to go to the office and spend the day sorting out the mess that was developing. But it was the absolute last thing I wanted. What I wanted was to stay home and sit by the window, keeping an eye out so she didn't leave. I had watched the cottage, like the stalker I was becoming, for the remainder of Sunday afternoon. I hadn't seen her leave, but of course, she could have apparated and I would have had no idea. But I had the feeling that she was simply hiding, remaining out of sight, because I was sure that she had not believed me. I was sure that she was expecting to be mobbed by the press.

But I had meant what I had said. I wouldn't do that to her. I wasn't the person she thought I was, not anymore. But I would have to take my time, because now that she was free from that pathetic imbecile, she would be mine and no one else would ever have her. I was a complete arse for thinking that way, but I had been in love with her for as long as I could remember, and the overwhelming need to protect her, to tell her she was more than what she thought she was with him, made it hard to breath.

And now that I knew where she was, I wanted it to stay that way.

* * *

 

By mid-morning I was a bundle of nerves. I had been staring at my door for almost an hour, my heart telling me to go back home, that she needed me. My brain, however, told me I was being ridiculous, that what she needed was privacy, and quiet, and space.

But I knew that I would achieve nothing when all I could think about was whether she would be there when I returned. I ran my hands through my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. She had made it clear, with the few words exchanged on the beach the day before, that she wanted to be left alone. But the thought of her being alone and miserable and heartbroken was gnawing at me and telling me that she needed me and that I should go to her.

I flicked through the parchments that my assistant, Erica, had left on my desk and absently shook my head, tossing them aside. I spun my chair and looked out the window, there was no way I could concentrate on anything while I knew there was a possibility that she had already left and moved on to Merlin knew where. My feet were itching to leave and as the minutes ticked by, the temptation to go to her grew.

I groaned in frustration. I needed to focus, but there was no way I could. Not here. So I made a snap decision. I picked up my leather satchel and threw it over my shoulder, and strode from my office.

"I'm leaving for the remainder of the day," I said as I stopped in front of my assistants' desk.

"Is everything alright?" Erica Sparks peered at me over the top of her glasses, her brow was furrowed. She knew that  _Prescott's_  had reneged on their deal, and that I should be doing something about it, but with Granger swirling around in my head, I wasn't concerned about anything but her.

An old family friend of the Parkinson's, Erica was one of the few people who took no shit from me. Pansy had told me that Erica would be the perfect assistant for me and I took her on board without even meeting with her – Pansy's reassurances were enough. And Pansy had been right, she was perfect.

In her late fifties she was ruthless and efficient, level headed and fair. The perfect sounding board when my temper got the better of me. And I had had very little to be concerned about when it came to the daily operations at our new company. The offices ran like clockwork; meetings were on time, my daily schedule was on my desk when I arrived each morning, and the daily barrage of owl post was prioritised before she handed it to me **.**  She was more organised and more knowledgeable than anyone else I knew – well, almost anyone. There was one person…

"Everything's fine," I assured her, "I just need a day off."

"Yes, you probably do." She agreed, but looked surprised. I had not left early once since the day we started. "But don't forget you have a floo meeting at eight tomorrow morning. Demetrius has become impatient." She looked pointedly at me.

I sighed.

Demetrius Brach, my supplier of rare ingredients and long-time friend of my father. I gripped the back of my neck and squeezed my eyes shut. The mere mention of the man's name made my head ache.

"I'll be here," I finally said, "And travel arrangements will need to be made."

"Do we know where he'll be?"

Demetrius moved around frequently. He was under the constant scrutiny of The Ministry, and I refused to think about why. I hadn't wanted to deal with him, but he had insisted that he wanted to help. That he owed it to my father – not that those sentiments had any impact on me. My father was in jail and out of my life. And it was good riddance as far as I was concerned.

My father. The man that I once idolised and adored, had shown his true colours during his trial, abandoning my mother and me in an attempt to save his own skin. I had no desire to see him ever again. He could rot in jail, for all I cared, but his associates seemed to think that I was still one of them. That I was still the purist I had been raised to be. I had managed to deflect their offers of help, but Demetrius had been persistent in his offer. I had reluctantly agreed, and so far, we'd had no trouble.

"If he's not here in London, then we won't be meeting with him." I tapped my fingertip on her desk, "It will most likely be next week. I'll let you know the details after I speak with him and you can finalise everything then. Send an owl if anything important comes up?"

"Draco..." She began, "Are you sure you're alright?"

I nodded, "I'm fine, really. I can't think straight at the moment, and I need to clear my head." I hoped that I sounded sincere. "Can you please cancel my day, and let Blaise and Pansy know I've left?"

My friends would have questions for me if I told them myself, and I was positive that they would show up later at the house, but I couldn't stay and the longer I stood in front of Erica's desk the more anxious I became.

She nodded and smiled, but her eyes told me she knew something was up. "Enjoy your day off then."

I agreed that I would and almost sprinted down the hallway, stepping quickly into the fireplace. My heart was racing at the thought of just seeing her, but the nervous knots in my stomach had me wondering if I would.

I took a deep breath, and said a silent prayer that she still be there. I called out my destination and disappeared instantly.

 


	5. Chapter 5

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I spent every night for the next week sleeping only for minutes at a time, listening for voices or footsteps outside, listening for the inevitable mob that would surely arrive on my doorstep, but so far, there had been nothing. I had lay in the dark each night, curled in a ball, refusing to turn the lights on. My terror in regards to the thunder was suddenly outweighed by the fact that I was scared that if someone was on their way, they would find me easily if the cottage was the only house on cliff that was lit up in the middle of the night.

I crawled out of bed the following Saturday when the first rays of morning light made their way around the curtains, wrapping the comforter around me and padding softly down the stairs. I tip-toed across the room and, as had become my normal routine, peeked out the curtains; the morning sky was still hidden by the grey clouds, but at least the rain had stopped.

And there was no one. No reporters, no friends, no one whispering and pointing. There was no one.

After my run-in with Malfoy, I had expected to be overrun the following morning with those same people who had been hounding me and had been the reason for my stealthy departure from the city. I had assumed that he would have proudly informed the world of my whereabouts. I had assumed that he would have been laughing and enjoying my misery from his hiding place on top of the hill, but it was almost a week later and my solitude remained intact.

I shook my head, confused. I had expected to have to leave, to find somewhere else to hide, and I had actually been ready to leave at first light the morning after my stunned discovery that he was my neighbour. But he had been true to his word, and had clearly not told a soul.

I flicked my wrist at the fireplace – my one concession to my "no magic" rule. I had never been good at lighting fires the muggle way, and I couldn't be bothered to take the time to learn. The fire roared to life and I stood in front of it, warming my toes. I stared into the dancing flames, instantly mesmerised by the graceful swaying and flickering of the red and orange and yellow hues as the fire took hold of the logs.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy was my neighbour.

Draco Malfoy was living just a few hundred meters away from me.

Draco Malfoy, who I had instantly assumed the worst of, had left me thunderstruck with his sincerity on the beach.

I had seen the figure descending the stairs and running along the beach and had stood watching for the ten minutes it took for him to cross the sand and reach the rocks at the opposite end of the beach. He had hardly paused as he turned and ran back the way he had come. I waited for what I thought would be long enough for him to make his way back up the stairs to his house before I pulled on my coat and made my way out to the deck.

I had clearly not seen him run back past as I reached the stairs and made my way down to the beach. I had closed my eyes as I stepped onto the wet sand; I already loved the feel of it on my bare feet, and was already hating the day that I  _would_ have to leave. It was why I had returned to the beach. I had asked the water to help me and I had decided that I would return every day until that happened.

But when I had asked the sea for something beautiful in return, Draco Malfoy had been the very last thing I had expected.

The image of him swam through my head. His own look of astonishment when he registered that it was me who was standing in front of him, a look that quickly turned to concern when he asked if I was okay. And then his reassurance - that I hadn't believed - that he wouldn't tell a soul where I was. His actions had been the complete opposite of what I had expected from him.

I had expected sneering. I had expected laughter at my lack of knowledge of my philandering ex-boyfriend. I had expected him to be the purist, muggle-hater that I first knew **.**  I had expected him to take great joy in my heartache. What I had  _not_ expected was for him to reassure me, to let me know that he was just nearby if I needed anything. It was not the Malfoy I remembered.

I saw the unfamiliar kindness in his eyes, the concern etched across his face. It wasn't unnerving, just very unexpected.

I shook my head, as if the motion would clear the vision of him from my mind, and moved into the kitchen. I wasn't much for coffee, but after yet another restless night, I knew that tea wouldn't cut it. I set the percolator to brew, and shuffled back to the window.

I stood staring at the house on top of the cliff. Why had he come here? It was isolated, completely hidden, and after witnessing this never ending storm, no one in their right mind would want to live here. But then maybe that was the point. What was it that he had said on the beach? That if he told people where I was, they would know where he was. I guess it made sense for him to be alone.

Pansy had told me that he had gone through his own personal hell at the end of the war. At his trial, Lucius Malfoy pointed his finger at everyone else to save his own arse, including his wife and son. I remember the devastation on Draco's face at his father's betrayal, the moment of realisation that his father was exactly what everyone said he was. And I was sure that he had been as followed as closely as I had; only his torment had lasted longer. His picture had been everywhere, reports varying from outright hatred to indifference to sympathy.

And when I had been given the job to liaise with them, I had deliberately avoided him whenever I could. Not because I disliked him, I had put all that behind me, but because I had no idea what to say to him. I had felt like I should comfort him and tell him that he was nothing like his father, that he should just ignore all the whispers and scorn and live the best way he knew, but I thought he would think me some weirdo and tell me not to interfere in his life. So I stayed away, avoided him wherever possible and dealt only with Pansy and Blaise. But each time that I did see him, the anguish never seemed to leave his eyes **.**

The percolator beeped, letting me know that the coffee was ready. I grabbed my jumper from the couch pulling it over my head, and with my coffee in hand I headed out to the deck. I curled myself into the deck chair and pulled my knees to my chest and dragging my jumper over my bare legs – something my mother always scolded me for. I wiggled my toes on the edge of the chair, smiling at the memory.

I missed my parents, not as much as I used to, their absence had become a more subdued ache as the years passed. And I had tried not to let myself think about them over the course of the past few weeks, because if I did, I was sure that my already broken heart would not survive.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; I wouldn't let those thoughts creep into my mind. The sun was out for the first time in a week, the air was still cool, but not unbearable, and I had planned to enjoy it. I wouldn't bring myself down again with thoughts of things I couldn't change. I sipped my coffee and looked out over beach. In the short amount of time that I had been staying here, it already felt like home. I had discovered that I liked the solitude and the peace, and I definitely loved the beach, especially the water.

I had been down to the beach each day, some of those days even in the rain, and I had managed to rid myself of some of the tension that had built up within me. I'd watched Malfoy – like a stalker - as he ran past on the beach each morning. It had become like a comfort of some sort to know that he was close by, but I still waited until I was sure he'd left for work before venturing down my own steps.

I actually wanted to see him, to thank him for being true to his word, but I was still luxuriating in my solitude and wasn't quite ready to interact with anyone just yet.

Besides I wasn't sure I was still over the shock of seeing him running along the beach, looking like an ordinary, everyday person. I may not have even recognised him if he hadn't looked up at me. His blonde hair was hidden beneath a black beanie, and he was dressed in running clothes.

Tight running clothes.

A tight thermal shirt that showed off his broad chest and tight running pants that showed off his arse.

My head jolted back, _Gah! Where the hell had that come from!?_

I felt my face heat up at the thought. I had watched him as he smiled and walked away from me, and my eyes  _had_ instinctively drifted lower.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and I wondered why it was I was actually having these thoughts about him. A month after a horrific break up was definitely not long enough to be thinking about Draco Malfoy's arse in such a way. And having had only one interaction a week before with my childhood tormentor was  _definitely_ not long enough to be even thinking of him as anything more than my neighbour.

Besides, what if something did happen between us out here in the middle of nowhere, and it ended up a complete disaster?

What if we did have sex and it was terrible? It was bound to be. I mean, my sexual experience was limited – to say the least. The thought of sleeping with someone else sent nervous shivers through me. It scared me to think I would have to admit to having limited knowledge about such things, (sex being something you couldn't learn from a book), and it scared me even more that I would have to admit it to him.

I was sure that he was the exact opposite. I was sure that his sexual escapades would have been the stuff of legend, that he would have had women throwing themselves at him. He was young, successful and ridiculously good-looking...who wouldn't want a piece of that?

_No! No, no, no._  I told myself. It had only been a month since I walked in on Ron with his pants around his ankles; it was most definitely  _not_  appropriate to be having such thoughts.

But then, Ron hadn't cared that he was still with me when he decided to shag every woman who smiled sweetly at him in passing.

So did it really matter that I was thinking about Draco's arse?

I bit my lip and glanced up at Draco's house. And I was surprised to see him sitting on his balcony. He lifted his hand and waved. After a few seconds, I smiled and waved back.

My heart beat quickened.

No. It didn't really matter at all.

* * *

 

******* DRACO *******

* * *

 

The weather was still cold, but the sun had finally broken through the clouds. It had been a week since I had first seen her on the sand, her devastation evident in her face. I hadn't seen her outside since, although I knew she was still at the cottage. It had taken two days after our chance meeting, but the curtains were now opened daily and I caught the occasional glimpse of a figure in the house.

I wanted to go down there, to say hello, ask how she was, but I didn't want to drive her away. So I had dutifully gone to work each day, hating every moment of it and watching the clock until it was time to leave. I had never kept regular working hours until this past week, usually staying until long after everyone else had left and arriving before the sun was up. But this last week, I had been unable to focus on anything other than her. I hoped that no one suspected anything, but I guessed if they did, I would simply tell them that, yes, a hot piece had moved into the cottage and let them assume what they liked.

I stood at the kitchen counter staring into space. I knew that she didn't need me – or want me – to protect her, but I had an overwhelming desire to do so. She was the only person that had ever made me feel this way. And it was why I now hated Weasley more than I ever did. He had ripped her apart.

I had loved that she had always been forceful, and determined, and resilient and I hated that he had turned her into a shell of her former self. Even in my fleeting moments on the beach with her, all I had seen was a fragility and a vulnerability I didn't think possible in her. She was a stark contrast to the Hermione Granger that had been my greatest nemesis at school.

And I had no idea why I thought it was my responsibility to comfort her, she had friends who knew her much better than I did, and surely they had attempted to do so. But she had come up here and isolated herself, so maybe they hadn't comforted her as much as driven her insane.

And I knew the feeling. The fact that she was within an arm's reach of me, was driving  _me_  insane. I was staring into space, with my stomach in a thousand knots, trying to understand the mass of thoughts that were gnawing away at me.

And my head was clouded with thoughts of her that were completely inappropriate. Thoughts of her lips pressed to mine; thoughts of me pressing her into the mattress on my bed, of pressing my chest against hers and feeling her hardened nipples against me, of the gasp of pleasure that would have surely left her as I ground my cock against her.

I scrubbed my hands over my face and let out a frustrated growl. It was getting ridiculous, my constant fantasy, my constant lack of concentration, my inability to focus on anything but her. I'd been restless and uncomfortable, barely sleeping, and my cock had been almost constantly hard in the week since I'd seen her on the beach. I shouldn't have been thinking of her with that appendage, but it seemed that my cock had taken over all rational thought, and having her in such close proximity only made matters worse.

I sighed and shook my head. All my bravado when leaving the office early on Monday having left me the second I stepped out of the floo, and I'd spent the week just staring out the window and watching the cottage. What I needed to do was put my spine back in place and go down and see her. What was the worst that could happen? She could tell me to fuck off and slam the door in my face.

Or, she might have forgotten my deplorable behaviour during our school years and invite me in.

I made coffee and stepped out onto my second floor balcony, sitting at the small table that I had placed there in order to not look like I was stalking her, but at the same time would enable me to see directly down to the deck of the cottage. I glanced out over the water and once again I found myself pleased that I had built my house here. The air was crisp and clear, the water had a calming effect, and the near private beach was perfect. Even on cold days, the view was spectacular.

But I was yet again distracted. My attention to the view I loved so much was fleeting and instead I became focused on the small deck on the house several hundred meters down the cliffs. I watched while I sipped my coffee, hoping that today would be the day that she would finally emerge.

And then my heart leapt when the door of the cottage opened and she stepped out. She sat in the deck chair and pulled her knees to her chest, and looked out over the cliffs. She sat motionless for several long minutes before turning and looking up at me. I raised my hand in a simple gesture of acknowledgement, and I smiled when she finally returned the gesture.

This was the first time I had actually seen her in the week that had passed. She'd not ventured down the stairs to sit on the sand, had not even been out to her deck – not when I had been at home in any case. It appeared that she had dived even further into her self-imposed exile. But maybe this was the turning point. Maybe she was telling me she was ready for me to talk to her.

Or, maybe I was being an egotistical idiot and she truly didn't want to see me. But then I noticed that her face was still turned in my direction and she was still looking up at me, and I immediately wanted to see her face, wanted to know exactly what she was thinking. Was she smiling? Or scowling? Or was she simply confused that Draco Malfoy, the same Draco Malfoy that treated her like dirt at school, had been concerned about her wellbeing? Or was she having the same thoughts about me as I was having about her?

I laughed and shook my head. That was a reach. Up until a month ago she was happily ensconced in her life with Weasley. I wouldn't have even been a blip on her radar. I was sure that, other than any Ministry dealings, she would never have given me a thought.

But maybe this was my chance. My chance to prove that I was no longer the same spoiled, sullen brat that she once knew. This was my chance to let her see who I had become, and it was my chance to let her see my feelings, and hope that she would come to feel the same way.

I sat up straighter in my chair and downed the last of my coffee. I stared back at her and decided that tomorrow I would take a chance and go to her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

It was still early in the evening, the sun only just dipping below the horizon, when I finally managed to wrangle my spine back into place and make my way to Granger's cottage. I paused on the top step and let out a shaky breath. I hoped that I would be welcomed and that she wouldn't simply scowl at me again and send me packing.

I had spent the day anxiously pacing, determining that I would cook for her and take my bounty down to her cottage, and hopefully she would invite me in to share it with her. And if she  _did_ send me on my way, I decided that I wouldn't give up. I would be patient. I had waited this long for her, I could certainly wait until she realised that I was the one for her.

I knocked on the door and watched through the large glass pane as she crossed the room, a surprised look on her face. She frowned, and I wondered if she would actually open it. I couldn't help but notice her attire. She was wearing an oversized fleece sweatshirt and a tiny pair of sleep shorts that showed all but the top three inches of her legs. Her feet were bare and her messy hair was piled in a heap on the top of her head.

She looked adorable, and who knew that Granger had legs?

She stood staring at me; she'd obviously not been expecting company. I held up my hand and smiled, mouthing  _Hi,_ and she sighed, finally crossing the room and sliding the door open.

I smiled and held out the bag I was carrying, "Welcome to the neighbourhood. Are you hungry?"

Her mouth twitched and she let out a small laugh, "Thank you, but I'm not sure I could eat all that."

I looked at the bag I was holding and realised that, in my nervousness, I probably made enough food for a small army, "Well then, there'll be leftovers for a week."

Her eyes finally met mine, "Or were you hoping to be invited in?"

I laughed, "You're too smart for me Granger. You always have been. And yes, that was my exact intent." I winked and hoped that I sounded sincere in my half-joke.

She looked at me thoughtfully, "Well, in that case," she stepped back from the door, "Come on in."

I held back the childish fist pump, and strode past her, nodding my thanks. I looked at the kitchen – it was spotless, as if it had hardly been used. I frowned, "Where..?"

"Um, the coffee table's fine." She slid the door closed, blocking out the rapidly cooling air, and curled herself on to one of the couches.

I placed the bag on the table and picked up the wine bottle, a St. Aubin La Princée Domaine Hubert Lamy, "Nice Granger."

She looked up at me and glanced nervously at the bottle I was holding, "Not the most expensive, but it's alright."

I nodded. "It's more than alright," I told her, "I have this exact vintage at home."

She narrowed her eyes at me, an expression I was all too familiar with, "I doubt that."

"Well, you can doubt it all you like. But I do have several of these in the cellar. I can prove it to you when you return the favour and come and cook for me." I winked at her, making her mouth twitch.

I refilled her glass and placed the bottle back on the coffee table, and moved into the kitchen, pulling plates and cutlery from the cupboards and draws.I grabbed a glass for myself from the cupboard, and noted the frown on her face as I made my way back to the couches.

"Sorry. Um, I own this place." I told her.

"You?" Her eyes were wide with astonishment, and she glanced around the room, "You own this place?"

"Yeah, as well as the middle one. I bought them both and lived in this one while mine was being built. So I know where everything is." I gave her a small smile, "I shouldn't have just made myself at home though. Sorry"

"That's fine," she said absently, and watched as I unloaded the food.

"Granger," I began carefully, "When was the last time you ate?"

If I had thought she was thin beneath her bulky overcoat, it was nothing compared to how tiny her frame was now that I could see her properly. She looked like hell, but there was no polite way to tell her that. She was pale and drawn, and her eyes were heavy with dark circles beneath them, and she was way too thin.

"I've had a shitty few weeks, and I've been feeling, well...shitty. Eating hasn't been a high priority." She shrugged, "What did you bring?"

I frowned at her, but didn't comment on her admittance of not eating. "I cooked chicken cannelloni with an anti-pasto salad and eggplant caponata."

"Italian? You cooked Italian?" Her eyes went wide, almost comically so. "Wait, you can cook?"

I laughed, "Yes, I can cook. And yes, I can cook Italian."

She leaned forward, watching me closely as I placed the plates on the coffee table and took the food containers from the bag. I smiled at her curious expression, "You alright?"

"Ah, yeah. Fine." She muttered, sitting back.

She licked her lips unconsciously and I felt a surge of pride rush through me. It would abundantly clear to anyone who saw her that she was barely eating, but the way she was ogling the food I was currently sliding onto the plates, I was sure it was about to change.

I handed her a plate and sat on the couch opposite her. "What?" I asked as she examined the plate.

She shook her head, "Nothing. I just..." She huffed out a nervous laugh, "I guess I just never thought I'd ever see the day when Draco Malfoy waited on me."

I grinned, "Probably thought you'd never be living in my house either."

"I guess not." She admitted and took a small mouthful from her plate and groaned.

"Good?" I asked unable to hide my smug smile.

" _Holy shit_!" She exclaimed, "You cooked this?" I nodded and she groaned again, "It's incredible."

"Thanks," I said, my smugness disappearing, replaced by heat warming my cheeks.

"Seriously Malfoy, this is amazing." She smiled. An actual, genuine smile, "I thought I could cook, but my attempts at Italian are mediocre compared to this."

"I'm glad you like it." I was sure that this was the first time in weeks that she had eaten properly, and I felt another surge of warmth rush through me that I had been the one to get this reaction from her. I cleared my throat, "Um, I wanted to apologise for when we were at school."

She gave me a half smile, "Thank you, but it's not necessary."

"I think it is," I disagreed, "My behaviour back then was deplorable."

She gave me a half smile, "You  _were_  truly awful. The way you berated and insulted me, you were so intent on tearing me down, and I won't lie to you, it hurt. But, there was – is – no point in holding onto any of that anymore, and besides, I forgave you a while ago."

I looked at my glass, twirling it absently-mindedly in my fingers, "How can you just forgive me? I would want to kill you if you had treated me the way I treated you."

"For a long time that was true, but everything changed that one day and I saw a different side of you."

I frowned, "Which day?"

"The day you were called to cross the courtyard. You hesitated. You didn't want to do it. You didn't want to be one of them."

"Yeah," I huffed, "I still crossed over though. I was a coward. A coward, and nothing more."

"No, a coward wouldn't have done that to protect his mother. A coward wouldn't have even shown up."

I smiled ruefully at her, "I think you're being far too kind."

"I see no point in holding onto any anger, you were young and under influences that I couldn't begin to imagine. It's in the past, so let's leave it there and move on."

I nodded, "I still want to apologise."

"Apology accepted."

We sat in companionable silence while she devoured the food on her plate. And I almost laughed at the thought that she might even lick it clean. She groaned and slid the empty plate onto the table.

"Wow," she breathed and pressed her hand to her stomach, "I haven't eaten that much in weeks. I think I might explode."

I laughed and waved my wand across the table. The plates floated across the room, and landed safely in the sink.

"What are you doing?"

"The dishes," I answered and grimaced at the scowl on her face.

She slid off the couch, and stomped over to the sink, "You don't have to use magic for everything!" She flicked her wrist and the water stopped running, and she began to scrub the plates with more vigour than was necessary.

I crossed the room and touched her shoulder lightly. She glared at me, "Sorry,' I said, "Let me help."

She shook her head and snapped, "You cooked. I'll clean up. Sit back down."

I winced at her tone, but did as she asked, watching from the couch as she muttered and mumbled, moving around the kitchen, clearing away the mess until there was nothing out of place. She huffed out a breath and rejoined me.

"Sorry," I repeated and leaned towards her, "Do you have an issue with magic?"

"At the moment, yes." She clenched her jaw, "I just want a break from it right now."

I nodded, as if I understood. But her reluctance to use magic made no sense. Just because Weasley had treated her like dirt, it didn't mean she should give up on everything. I wanted to reach over and take her hand, but there was already a heavy awkwardness sitting over us, and a simple touch, no matter how innocent, felt too intimate.

"Why are you really here?" she asked quietly. "Are you here to gloat?"

I frowned at her, "Gloat? Why would I gloat?" She shot me an incredulous look and I shook my head, "No Granger. I'm not here to gloat. What happened to you is…I can't even imagine what that was like. So no, I wouldn't dream of throwing it in your face."

"What do you think happened?"

I shifted forward and leaned my elbows on my knees, "I'll admit I only know what I read. And I don't believe most of it."

"You still read it." She said, her tone accusatory, "And I'm sure you – like everyone else - enjoyed all the sordid details in the gossip columns. You probably laughed about it every day while you ate breakfast with some stupid bint or another."

I held my face passive. Is that what she thought of me? That I slept with dozens of unknown women? I'd loved to have set her straight and tell her just how wrong she was. I would have loved to have told her that I hadn't had sex in over a year, that my hand had been my only companion.

"You're right," I agreed, and added, "About me reading it, not about having breakfast with some random woman. I don't do that."

She eyed me suspiciously, her jaw was clenched tightly.

"And I'm sorry that I read it at all, and I'm sorry that he treated you like that."

She pursed her lips, "Are you here to find out what happened? Because you're wrong. You should have believed what you read. For once, the papers got it right, it was pretty much the truth."

I shook my head, "Granger, I didn't come here to get a story, or laugh, or gloat, or do any of the things I'm sure you're thinking. You don't have to tell me anything. I just wanted to know that you're okay. That's all."

She stared at me, as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. She lifted her glass to her mouth and swallowed it all in one go. I picked up the bottle and she held her glass out, allowing me to refill it. She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes.

"I don't know why he did it. Everything was perfect. At least I thought it was." She swallowed and looked back up at me, her eyes blinking rapidly, holding back the tears. I shifted from my place and sat beside her, far enough away that she wasn't uncomfortable, but close enough that I could reach out and touch her foot.

"Do you know what it's like to walk in on the supposed love of your life – the man you'd spent six years of said life with - with his dick inside another woman atop his desk at work?"

"No, I really don't." I said and squeezed her foot.

"Well, you might be surprised to discover that you might not react as you would expect. You might expect screaming, yelling and cursing, or even the throwing of heavy objects." She let out a shaky exhale, "But not me. I simply smiled and wished him much enjoyment and walked out. Not very courageous, I know, and my lunch made an encore appearance in the bathroom just before I fled the building."

I dragged my thumb across her ankle, "As courageous as you could be in that moment, I think."

"I guess, " She said and sighed, "And before I had a chance to block him from coming into the house, he was there and I listened to the grovelling; the countless apologies; the countless times he said  _I still love only you_ and the even more ineffective  _she means nothing to me._  And my personal favourite,  _I was just fucking her, I make love to you."_

I snorted incredulously, I couldn't help it, and she bit her lip, a rueful smile escaping her. "I'm glad there was a justification for his actions." I drawled.

She nodded and then shrugged, "I guess in his mind I should have just accepted that, and forgiven him. I couldn't even look at him; I couldn't even be near him. I didn't _want_  to be near him. So I packed up everything I owned and then I listened once more to his final apology, the final  _please_   _don't leave, we can work this out._ I slapped his face and told him he was lower than the scum that lived beneath the dirt on his shoes and I informed him that if he came near me again I would do more than slap him."

A single tear ran down her cheek, and I wanted to brush it away. But I resisted and my hand remained on her foot, my thumb still circling lightly on her skin.

"And then I walked out of the home we had bought together, the home I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together in. I stayed with Harry for two weeks, until I thought I would go insane, and then I came up here. I didn't want to shut myself away. I didn't want to run away, and I didn't want to hide. But the constant noise of the gossip reporters, and the constant  _everything will be fine,_ and  _you're strong, you'll get through this_ , from my friends was all too much to take." She took a breath, "I needed the quiet to think, to give myself the time I needed to sort out how I felt. What I didn't need was everyone telling me how I  _should_ feel."

"How  _do_  you feel?"

She looked startled at the question. She took another large sip of her wine and looked down at my hand on her foot. I kept it where it was, knowing that she would tell me to move it if she was uncomfortable.

"I feel empty," She finally said. More tears slid down her cheeks and she brushed them away, "I feel like I've been stripped to nothing, and I don't know how to get back to me."

"You know its okay, don't you?" I asked and her brows creased. "I mean, it's okay to feel like that. You don't have to be strong; you can feel shitty, you can be weak and miserable and hate the world. You can be all of that and it's perfectly fine."

She shifted, and my hand slipped from her foot. I immediately missed the contact, but she angled herself towards me, curling her knees to her chest and leaning her head on the back of the couch. "Is that how you dealt with everything?"

I nodded, "Pretty much. I hated the world, hated my father, so I hid and limited my contact with everyone. I built my house up here so I was away from everyone and everything, and I discovered that when you lead a totally boring life, the gossip dies down quickly." I put my glass on the table and leaned back on the couch, my head lolling to the side to look at her. "Have they contacted you?"

"The gossip columnists?"

I shook my head, "No, Granger. Harry and Ginny."

"Oh," she said with a laugh, "Yes, both of them. Every day. Sometimes twice, sometimes more. Pansy too."

"You haven't ignored them? You've told them you're okay?"

"I haven't ignored _all_  of their owls." She told me, "And yes, I'm constantly telling them I'm okay and that I'm safe. It's as if they don't think I can take care of myself."

I chuckled, "You should go easy on them. None of them know what it's like. And they're just worried."

"Draco Malfoy," she said with wide-eyed grin, "I never thought I'd  _ever_  hear you telling anyone to go easy on Harry Potter."

I laughed, "No, probably not. But I'm sure he, and everyone else, is just concerned for you."

"You think I should tell them where I am?"

I shook my head, "Not if you don't want to. My mother, Blaise and Pansy, and now you, are the only people who know where I live, and I plan on keeping it that way. Tell those people you can trust, only when you're ready. But don't ignore them, let them know that you're safe and that you'll tell them where you are when you're ready."

She stretched her leg out a poked me playfully with her toe, "What happened to you? You used to be all nasty and sullen and broody."

"Is that what you prefer?"

"No," she said tilting her head, "I guess this is just unexpected. Different."

"I'm not always this sweet and cuddly, I'm still a tyrant at work," I told her, making her laugh, and I knew instantly that it was a sound I very much wanted to hear more often.

"What made you change?"

"I guess I just decided to grow up," I shrugged, "It's a much better option than being angry all the time."

A sudden crack of thunder caused her to jump, and her hand gripped my arm tightly. She swore and looked out the window, her fingers digging even harder into my arm as another thunderous boom sounded.

"You alright?" I asked covering her hand with mine.

She nodded, but her face was almost like a ghost, and she looked anything but alright. In fact, she looked almost scared to death.

"Granger?" I said gently, "What is it?"

"Nothing...I just..." She winced as another loud crack sounded and shook the windows. "I can deal with rain and wind and lightning. But thunder..." She shuddered.

I patted her arm, "I can stay here until it passes. I have no plans."

"I'm being ridiculous," She said with a shake of her head, "You should go before the storm really hits."

This time I took a risk and squeezed her knee, "Granger. It's dark outside, I can apparate home. I don't do it during the day in case someone sees me. So I can stay as long as you need me." I patted the cushion on the couch and added, "In fact, these couches are exceptionally comfortable. I can crash here if you want."

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red, "Um. I, ah…that's probably not…"

I waited, but she turned away, staring out the window as the lighting lit up the sky.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I told her and she shook her head.

"No, really. It's fine." Another loud rumble of thunder shook the cottage and she shifted closer to me.

I laughed, "Granger, you're here alone, If you're comfortable for me to be on the couch so you can feel more at ease, then I'm happy to help."

She looked at me and grimaced, "You think I'm pathetic, don't you?"

"No," I said shaking my head, "Not at all. Just get me a pillow and a blanket, I'll be happy here."

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, there's a bed upstairs."

I arched an eyebrow at her, and her face went an adorable shade of crimson, and I couldn't resist teasing her, "That's a bit forward Granger. I only meant for this to be a dinner between friends, I didn't expect there to be benefits."

Her body tensed and she glared at me, "The bed in the spare room Malfoy. Since this is your house, I'm sure you know it's there."

I had to admit, my offer  _was_ rather forward, I'm not sure why I had said I would stay. I knew it myself that I was trying too hard to get in her good graces, but even this was over the top. She sat staring at me and I was sure that she would tell me to leave.

"I'm kidding Granger," I assured her, "The couch will be fine."

"Are you sure?" She finally asked quietly.

I nodded, "I am."

She got up and crossed the room to the hallway cupboard, retuning with a pillow and blankets. She handed them to me and I kicked off my shoes, smiling up at her.

"Thanks Malfoy," she whispered and bolted up the stairs.

I grinned after her, settling myself on the couch. The storm had gathered strength and the rain had begun pelting against the windows. I was certain that the thunder had stopped with the arrival of the rain, but who was I to question her need for me to spend the night – even if it was only on the couch?

 


	7. Chapter 7

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I woke to the sound of waves crashing which was a pleasant change from the constant rain. The room was warm, the fire was burning in the fireplace, extra logs having been added recently, and my bed was...I sat up. My bed was the couch. I looked around, frowning at the living room. On the couch opposite me there were neatly folded blankets and a pillow, with what looked like a note perched on top of them. I pressed my hands to my eyes.

_Shit._

I had blearily crawled out of bed when yet another round of crashing thunder began to rumble outside, dragging my comforter and pillow downstairs in the wee hours of the morning, knowing that there was no way I would be able to sleep. I had intended to return to my room before he woke and caught me, but I had clearly fallen into a deep sleep - the first time I had done so in weeks. And I hadn't slept as soundly during a storm ever. Not even with Ron beside me. Yet here I was, slightly disorientated and still foggy with sleep, after having Draco Malfoy sleeping just a few feet away from me.

He had been sleeping soundly, when I crept down the stairs, laying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch, his hand brushing the floor. He had been snoring lightly – a low, rasping humming sound – and looked completely content on my couch. I had studied his face in the warm light that glowed from the fire, and I had to admit that he really was beautiful – a far cry from the boy I remembered. But the man asleep on my couch was a different person all together.

I had allowed myself to enjoy a small fantasy involving him after my epiphany when I saw him on his balcony. Nothing sordid or dirty – I didn't think I was capable of that just yet – but I simply had wondered what it would be like to have his hands touching me, to have his fingertips gently brushing over my skin, of his lips gently kissing mine. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair, to see his eyes staring into mine while he lay beside me while we kissed on the couch.

And I wasn't exactly sure if my fantasy about him was simply because of the fact that I had only ever been with one person and he was the only available male for miles around, or if my secret teenage crush on him was making a return. But either way, it didn't change the fact that he was actually sleeping on my couch.

He had caught me completely off-guard. He was, as I had said, unexpected. His humour, his kindness, his cooking; it was all still a shock. And the fact that he had sat and listened to my tearful rant, making very few comments, unlike my friends with their constant insults and scathing remarks towards Ron. Not that he didn't deserve it, but their vitriol hadn't been what I had needed – or wanted - to hear.

And his offer to stay with me when I was unable to hide my ridiculous fear of thunder had confused the hell out of me.

I sat staring at the folded blankets, slightly terrified as what the note on top would say. I was certain, after the events of the previous night, it wouldn't be anything derogatory, but there was still a small pocket in my mind that said he was Draco Malfoy, and it all might have been the perfect con.

But once again there were no reporters in my yard, no friends in my living room lecturing me, no ex-boyfriend begging for my forgiveness. So I had to believe that yet again, he had remained true to his word.

I took a breath and stood, leaning over and plucking the note from where it lay.

_Granger,_ __  
_Work beckons._ __  
_I hope my presence allowed you to sleep soundly._ __  
_And if it didn't, I'd be happy to be your hero again._ _  
_ _D.M_

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. Playful and funny, and surprising me again. He'd had made no mention of finding me asleep on the other couch, for which I was grateful. I was sure, however, the next time I saw him, he would mention it.

I padded across to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil and opening the fridge. I smiled again when I saw the remains of last night's dinner. I hadn't been lying when I told him that the food was amazing, and the fact that my appetite had suddenly made a reappearance at its arrival was nothing short of a miracle.I stood staring at the left-over cannelloni and wondered if it would be suitable as breakfast food, and then decided that, no, it wouldn't be, but it would be perfect for dinner that evening.

I made myself some tea and grabbing one of the neatly folded blankets, headed out to the deck, revelling in the fact that, despite the cool air, the sun was actually out and I could see the horizon clearly. I curled myself into the deck chair, wrapping the blanket around me and wondered again what the hell had happened the previous night.

And why it was that I felt so calm about it?

I should have been panicked at the fact he knew where I was; that he had been in my house; that he had slept on my couch. I should have been panicked that the boy who spent all of my school years putting me down and calling me names, had been looking at me with concern and had been anxious when I had told him that I hadn't been eating.

And I certainly should have been panicked that if someone caught wind of it, no matter how innocent it had been, it would be made out to be some sort of sordid affair - an attempt to get back at Ron on my behalf.

But there was nothing. No panic, no anxiety, no fear. Just a calmness that I had to admit felt unusual where Malfoy was concerned.

Stunned wouldn't have been the word to describe how I felt when I heard him knock on my door. After a week of nothing from him, I had assumed he decided to leave me alone. But seeing him standing on my deck, bag in hand and a smile on his face, I had been taken aback.

And the fact that I was barely dressed hadn't helped my anxiety at his arrival on my doorstep.

I had decided that since I had nowhere to go, I would have a lazy Sunday in my pyjamas. I had rolled out of bed in the morning, pulled on my jumper and,since the house was warm and cosy, I thought little more of covering my almost bare legs. I had spent the day doing little more than reading and drinking tea, and the knock on my door in the early evening had startled me.

And going by the look on his face at my casual appearance when he knocked on my door, he was equally as startled to see me in the state I was in.

I had hesitated, of course, not really wanting to have to open the door. And I hated the fact that despite being dressed in only jeans and shirt himself, of course, he looked impeccable. His stark white shirt had neither a crease nor a wrinkle, and was perfectly fitted to his torso. And his jeans looked like they had been made specifically for him.

But in the few seconds I hesitated I decided that it didn't really matter. I wasn't trying to impress him, and he had, after all, dropped in unannounced, he would just have to deal with me as I was. And he did. Aside from his initial reaction to my attire, he didn't seem at all bothered by it.

And I had been completely comfortable revealing everything to him. More comfortable than I had been with Ginny or Pansy or even Harry. And surprisingly he had made no judgement, no harsh criticisms, he had just listened as I rambled.

And he had asked how I felt.

I loved my friends, but all the way through this, they had repeatedly told me that I would be fine, that I was the strongest person that they knew and that I would get through this. But not once had they told me that it was perfectly okay to feel miserable, and hurt, and angry and broken. I knew that they meant well, that they simply thought they were helping me to feel better, but all they had done was make me feel worse. It was why I had just up and left. It was why I hadn't told them where I was.

I sighed and shook my head. Malfoy had been right. I would have to eventually tell them where I was, I couldn't hide forever. I had enough money to pay the rent up here for months, but by that time, I was sure that Harry would break several laws and use the Aurors office to put a trace on me and find where I was.

And I was certain that if Pansy knew that Malfoy was hiding the fact that he was aware of where I was, she'd kill him.

But I was still not quite ready to tell them where I was. Another week or two and I would let them know. I was enjoying the quiet, enjoying the chance to just be on my own, enjoying the chance to see a different version of Draco Malfoy from the one I remembered.

I stared out over the sea, the sun was shining and for the first time since I had arrived, the water was almost calm. A smile slowly spread across my face.

"Stupid sea," I muttered, "Something beautiful, indeed."

* * *

 

"Hey!" I called as he ran past me. I had woken early and had decided that I would head down to the beach and hopefully see him, to say thanks for putting up with my irrational fear.

I had expected him to visit me the previous night after he had returned from work. I was sure that he would have wanted to tease me relentlessly for venturing down the stairs and sleeping on the other couch. But I had only seen him wandering around his own house.

And my disappointment had surprised me. I'd been enjoying my time alone, but the few hours in Malfoy's company had lifted my spirits. I had been amazed at just how comfortable it had been to share a meal with him. Even in the quiet moments, there was no awkwardness, no need to fill the silence. It was a comfort I didn't think I was capable of with someone other than my closest friends.

I laughed when he stumbled at my voice, and turned to look at me, an expression of complete surprise on his face.

"Granger?" He said, walking over to me, "Is that an actual smile?"

My smiled widened, "I guess it is."

"Did you sleep well last night?"

I looked up at the sky, "No thunder," I said, "So yes, I actually slept the entire night. There'll be no need for us to be couch companions again."

He laughed, "I have to say I  _was_  surprised to find you there. Do you know that you snore?"

I put my hands on my hips, "I do not."

"Oh, you so do," He said taking a step closer to me, "You make an adorable squeaking sound."

I poked my finger into his chest, "Yeah, well, you snore too. Only it's not so adorable."

He grabbed my finger and squeezed it, "Admit it Granger, you needed a hero, and that hero was me, and you couldn't stand to not be near me."

I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand back, "I was going to be nice and say 'thank you,' but since you're being such a prat, I won't."

He grinned, his white teeth glinting at me, his eyes mischievous, "You don't have to thank me, Granger. The pleasure was all mine. Waking up beside you was thanks enough. And I'd be happy to do it again...if you needed me to, that is."

I looked down at my feet, my cheeks heating up at the thought of him sleeping that close to me again.

_Wait!_

Was he flirting with me? It sounded like flirting, but I had no clue. I'd never flirted with anyone in my life. Ron and I had been thrown together in the middle of a war. In fact, I was sure that he hardly noticed me before he, Harry and I criss-crossed the country in a tent. There was _no_  flirting or teasing. It just seemed that we ended up together. And – for better or for worse - we simply stayed together.

But now with those eyes, that smile, the playful tone of his voice – the fact that Malfoy had slept on my couch - I was confused. Why was he flirting with me? Did he feel sorry for me? Did he think he needed to try to make me feel better? Or had I given him the idea that maybe I wanted him to? Did he think that sleeping on my couch was something more?

Did _I_  think it was something more?

"Granger?"

I snapped my head up, "Sorry. What?"

"I said, do you run?" He smirked at me, and I sensed that he knew what I had been thinking.

I looked towards the end of the beach and started laughing. "Run? Uh, no. Well, only from evil dark lords, but along the beach? No."

"Walk, then?"

I nodded and fell in step with him as we made our way slowly towards the end of the beach. He made a noise in his throat, and I looked up at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face.

"You alright?" I asked.

He nodded, "I, ah, spoke with Helen. The rental agent. You can stay here as long as you need." He swallowed and his cheeks went pink, "Rent free."

I stopped walking and my eyes went wide, "Draco, no. I can—"

He held his hand up, "Think of it as my way of saying thank you for forgiving me."

I glanced upwards to the top of the cliff and then back at him, confusion plastered on my face, "It's too much. I can't let you do that."

"You can," He said. "And it's not too much. Really, I don't need the money." I arched an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "Pretentious?"

"Just a little bit." I told him, "And you really don't have to do this."

"Ah, but I want to." He said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and hugging me quickly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "But now I'm indebted to you twice. And I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

He sniggered, "Three times, actually."

"Three times?" I frowned, "How's that?"

He nodded, and counted off on his fingers, "I cooked for you, that's one. I was your hero and kept the nasty thunder away, that's two. And now the cottage is yours. So as you can see, you don't owe me for two, but rather you owe me for three."

I bit back the smile; definitely flirting.

"And how would one repay these, um, debts?" I hoped my voice sounded light. I wasn't sure what had come over me; flirting wasn't my forte, but going by the wicked grin that appeared on his face, I'd hit the mark.

"Well," he said, his voice became a low rumble and he stepped closer to me, running his fingertip across my jaw to my chin and tilting my face up. "It's fairly simply, really. Just give me what I want, and the debt is repaid."

The simple touch of his finger on my skin had my heart leaping into my throat, and I swallowed hard to stop the squeak of surprise escaping me. His eyes were locked on mine, boring into me, and I could barely draw a full breath.

"What do you want?" I said in a nervous whisper.

"Dinner." He said, the mischievous grin returning to his face.

"Dinner?" I said, taken aback.

He nodded, "Yes. Tonight. You can cook for me after I finish work." He tapped my nose, "What did you think I meant?"

My face grew hot, "I, ah, dinner. Right." I stammered. "But that's only one."

He shrugged, "Three dinners then."

"Dinner hardly seems like a fair trade for free rent."

His lips twitched and his eyes sparkled, "Did you have something else in mind?"

I bit my lip. I did have something else in mind, and I was sure that what I was thinking was inappropriate, but I had to admit, I was enjoying the flirty banter and the spark in his eyes.

"No. Nothing." I told him, shaking my head, "I'll make you dinner. What time do you get home?"

"If you've been watching me as closely as I've been watching you, I'm sure you already know that, Granger." He winked at me and continued down the beach, leaving me staring after him in shock.

* * *

 

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

I strode away from her, doing all I could to not do back flips along the beach. The fist pump I allowed myself when I reached the stairs and was out of her sight was childish and immature, but I didn't care. She would be in my house. It was more than I had dared hope for.

To say I'd been shocked when I woke and saw her sleeping just a few feet away from me would be an understatement. I hadn't expected to see her at all. I knew that she had been embarrassed by not being able to hide her fear of thunder and I assumed that she would stay out of sight for a few days. But clearly her fear had gotten the better of her when the storm swelled again, and there she was, sleeping soundly right across from me.

And the sight of her face, completely relaxed, bought a smile to my face. She had looked weary the previous night, too thin, her usually alive eyes had been dull, the dark circles beneath them making them look empty. So to see her quiet and peaceful had me thinking that I had made the right decision to stay.

I was beyond pleased to be the one to make her feel safe, even if it was only from the storm, but the small amount of trust she had placed in me had allowed me a glimmer of hope that her trust would grow.

I had crouched beside her, pushing back the curl of hair that had fallen across her face. She would hate that I had been watching her, hate that I had been so close, but I couldn't resist. I watched as she slept; the tiny squeaking sound she made as she breathed made me grin.

She murmured in her sleep, and I held my breath. Her eyes flickered and then she sighed, rolling onto her back and falling back into a deep sleep. I let out the breath I was holding and hesitated before pressing my lips to her forehead. Her skin was warm, and I realised that she must have been sleeping there for most of the night. I smiled and reached out, tracing my finger along her cheekbone, across her jaw, marvelling at just how truly beautiful she was.

And it wasn't just how she looked that made her beautiful. I had always loved her fierce intellect, even though she had put me to shame on more occasions that I could count. But what made her so much more beautiful than her high cheekbones or the warmth of her dark eyes, was that I was sure that she had absolutely no idea just how she affected everyone around her. She had a quiet honesty that so very few people had, and even though she hated her fame, she was admired and adored. She was Hermione Granger. She was the witch that all young witches aspired to be.

But as peaceful and content as she looked, and after the conversation that we had had, I knew that it was just a small reprieve from the hurt that she was feeling.

My chest constricted. I was completely in love with her, and had been for quite some time. But I knew that it would take time, that I couldn't push her, she was more distressed than I had realised. I had been right when I said that she was broken, but with the small glimpses of smiles and the sounds of her laughter I knew that there was still hope.

Her face twitched beneath my touch, and I sighed, reluctantly standing and pulling the covers over her.

I knew that she needed her space, but I had wanted to see her again from the minute I had left her on the couch, and I had planned to return at the end of my day, but an unexpected visit from my mother put an end to those plans. I was frustrated and on edge, hoping that Granger didn't think I had simply seen her so vulnerable and gotten her story, and then abandoned her. My mother was the last person I wanted to spend my evening with, but as is always the way with my mother, she sensed that I was distracted and insisted that I tell her what was wrong. I waved it off as work, but Narcissa Malfoy was not easily lied to. She hadn't pushed me, but she had watched me closely for the remainder of her visit.

And now, I stood under the shower, unable to stop the smile that had taken up permanent residence on my face. I loved that she had snuck down the stairs and scared the crap out of me, loved that she was happy and smiling, and teasing me. She looked well rested and her smile was bright.

I knew that I would have to school my features at work, least give everything away to Pansy and Blaise. But in the moments before I would have to do that, I would enjoy the fact that the same person who had been so completely lost just two nights before, had finally shown a spark of life, and looked almost back to herself.

 


	8. Chapter 8

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

"Seriously Granger," I groaned, shoving the now empty plate away from me. "I thought our days of competing were over."

Three weeks after flirting with her on the beach and Granger had proved beyond a doubt that she was an incredible cook. We were well past her three dinner debt, and we had eased into a casual routine where we ate together several times a week, taking turns to cook, and a silent competition had been happening between us.

She'd been anxious when she had first cooked for me - an incredible Spanish paella had been her first offering – and her self-deprecation at what she thought was a poor attempt, had me clenching my jaw yet again to resist the urge to use Weasley's name as a curse. Not because I thought he had hated her cooking, but because of the complete loss of confidence that she once had.

I had assured her that it was the best meal that someone other than myself had cooked for me in a long time, and she had laughed, telling me I was a conceited arse and that if I wasn't careful she'd forget our deal and lock herself away again.

She had begun to join me most mornings when I ran along the beach, not running, but meeting me with a bright smile as I approached the bottom of the stairs at her end of the beach on my second loop across the sand, and walking the half mile to the rocks with me. Our conversation had become easier with each passing day, until we were talking like old friends, and I found that on the rare mornings that she didn't appear, I missed her more than I probably should have.

I had arrived home earlier in the evening to find her in my kitchen - I had told her to use it any time she wanted - a simple lamb and vegetable stew bubbling away on the stove, which was perfect since the weather had grown cold as the winter fast approached. She had promised to make dinner for me again as we parted on the beach that morning, and I had assumed that I would venture down to the small cottage and spend another pleasant evening with her. But I can't say it was unpleasant to find her in my kitchen with a smile on her face.

She laughed as I groaned again, "So instead of competing in potions, it'll be cooking?"

"It's almost the same thing, isn't it?" I asked, clearing the table and making my way to the sink.

"Maybe," She said, leaning against the counter and sipping her wine, "Cooking is a lot less intricate."

"True," I agreed, "But potions don't generally taste as good."

She grimaced, "Polyjuice,  _bleh_!"

"I'm sure you were an adorable cat." I laughed, picking up my scotch and leading her to the couch.

She slapped my arm as she walked past me and sat at the opposite end of the couch, her back leaning against the arm rest, her legs crossed in front of her. "I'll have you know, I  _was_ adorable."

I laughed and gently nudged her with my knee, "So, how are you doing?"

"Better, I guess," She shrugged, "I don't feel as angry anymore and I'm finally sleeping through the night, well, most nights, anyway."

"That's disappointing," I said with a dramatic sigh, "I was hoping that I could be your couch buddy again."

She narrowed her eyes at me, but was still smiling when she told me, "Well, winter has only just begun, I'm sure there'll be more opportunities for thunder storms."

I almost choked on my scotch.  _Was she serious?_

I coughed, and didn't miss the smirk she shot me. She had been tentative at first, but the teasing banter that had begun between us three weeks earlier had slowly become more and more natural for her, and she had become so at ease with it, she managed to catch me off guard.

But I recovered quickly, and shot her my own wicked smirk, "Well, like I said, I'll happily sleep beside you anytime you want me to."

"Only on the couch, right?" Her wide-eyed, mock-innocent stare made me laugh.

"Of course.' I said, "Where else would I have meant?"

She laughed and looked around the room, "What is it that you do at night when I'm not here?"

"Um, I read, sometimes I work," I shrugged, "There's a piano upstairs, I play that sometimes."

"Really?" Her face lit up, "You play?"

I nodded, "Since I was about four."

"Would you play for me?"

"Ah," I hesitated. My mother had insisted that I learn to play, but music was something that my father had called frivolous and he thought it a waste of my time, and it was a voice I was still trying to get out of my head.

"Sorry," she said reaching over to me and gently touching my thigh, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it's okay if you don't want to."

I looked at her. She had shared so much with me, playing for her was the least I could do. I pushed my father's mutterings out of my head and stood, holding my hand out to her, "Come on. I'll show you."

She twisted her mouth into a shy smile and took my outstretched hand, "Thank you, Draco."

* * *

 

_"Thank you, Draco."_

Her words rang in my head as I led her up the stairs. I'd only ever been  _Malfoy,_ despite the budding friendship that was growing between us.

She had only been on the first floor of the house – there had been no reason yet for her to venture up the stairs - and I watched as she took in the rest of the house. I hated clutter and my house reflected that. Clean lines, highly polished floorboards, simple furniture. I lived sparsely; I had no want to show off my family's wealth as my father had done. My only concession was the artwork on my walls - artwork that had her stopping in the long hallway that served as a gallery at the top of the stairs.

One piece in particular, halfway along the hall, had her stopping short and holding her breath - and I hadn't missed the fact that she was still holding my hand.

"This is a Chagall," She looked at me, "Isn't it?"

I nodded, "It is." I stepped back beside her, "Do you like it?"

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes were wide with awe. "It's perfect." Her voice was barely a whisper as she dropped my hand and stepped closer to the painting.

I stood silently watching her. Her teeth dragged across her bottom lip, a look of concentration creased her brow as she took in the passages of colours. It was what had drawn  _me_  to the painting – the stark contrasts of blues and yellows, of greens and reds, of violets and oranges. The full colour spectrum in one painting, and I had stood in an almost identical pose to hers, when I first looked at it.

Her gaze finally returned to me, and her eyes were alive, almost dancing with excitement, "Chagall," She said, her voice breathy, "I can't believe you have a Chagall. I love his work."

I peered over her shoulder at the painting, "It wasn't an easy purchase." I told her, "But when I saw it, I knew I had to have it."

She looked back once more and shook her head again, "You're full of surprises tonight."

I held my hand out again and nodded, "I think I promised you a concerto."

"I believe you did," she said following me down the hallway to another set of stairs. "There's another floor?"

"Yes," I told her, "And it's probably my favourite."

"I can see why," She commented when we reached the top.

The third floor was one, large open room. The entire wall across the front was made of glass and the view over the sea was even more spectacular from this high up. The grand piano stood by the window, and the only other pieces of furniture in the room were a plush leather armchair and a small side table, both set next to the large expanse of bookshelves that reach the entire length of the far wall.

Granger was staring at me, a look of incredulity on her face. She pointed at the wall of books, "You didn't think to tell me about this?"

"I'm not stupid Granger," I drawled, "If I  _had_  told you, you would hide up here and I would never get to see you."

"I would be in your house every minute of the day, you would just have to come up the stairs." She said as she walked slowly along the shelves, the implied ' _du'h'_ hanging in the air.

I shook my head, wondering if it had been a wise idea to bring her up here. The dreamy look on her face left me with the distinct feeling that she had forgotten her request to hear me play. I made my way to the piano, glancing out the window and yet again appreciating my solitude. The sky was clear, and the stars were bright against the dark backdrop of the night.

I sat on the bench and lifted the lid, the instant calmness that I always felt when I sat here washed over me.

"Sit here," I told her, patting the piano bench beside me.

She turned from the shelves, "I won't be in the way?"

"Nope." I said and when she didn't move, I ordered, "Sit."

She smiled and sat beside me, our legs touching from hips to knees. I closed my eyes and pushed aside the image of my tongue making its way along her leg, going higher and higher...

I shook my head and opened my eyes and found her watching me with a look that had me wondering if she was thinking the same thing.

I took a breath. This was something I never did. My mother had sometimes listened as I played, but she was the only one. Music was something that I kept for myself. Like running along the deserted beach, music had always been an outlet for my anger and frustrations. And it had always had the calming effect that I needed in the midst of all the chaos.

I brushed my fingertips across the cool, white expanse of the keys in front of me, contemplating what I should play for her. She sat silently beside me, waiting patiently. In my mind I pictured several thousand music notes combining in an array of sequences, until I came to the one I wanted.

I looked at her and smiled, reaching my fingers to the keys and playing the opening chords.  _Debussy,_  I heard her whisper. And I smiled. I wasn't at all surprised that she knew it. I shut my eyes again, allowing each lilting note, each rise and each fall, to take over every other thought in my head. There was just me and the music, and the pleasant warmth of her body beside me.

The soft notes filled the room, and I felt her relax beside me. I could feel the tapping of her fingers on my thigh as she silently played along with me. Despite my hesitation at playing for her, I realised that she needed this as much as I did; the freedom that the music gave me, might just assist in chipping away a little more of anguish that she was slowly letting go of. I glanced quickly sideways and saw that her eyes were closed, a small smile playing at her mouth. The calming effect it had on me seemed to double for her.

When I finished, she wrapped her arm across my lower back, her fingers digging into my hip. Her head fell against my shoulder and I could hear the shortness of her breath.

"Granger?" I whispered and she lifted her head. I saw the tears in her eyes, but she was smiling at me.

She didn't say anything, she simply stared at my mouth. Then slowly, she lifted her hand to my jaw, her thumb brushing across my lips. She leaned in, closing the space between us, and gently pressed her lips to mine. Without a thought, my hand instinctively reached to the back of her head, holding her to me. Her lips were warm and her kiss tender, her mouth lingering over mine as her fingers lightly brushed my cheek, before she pulled away.

For several long seconds we just stared at each other.

Then her eyes went wide and she pressed her fingers to her lips. "Sorry...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." she stood and backed away from me.

"Hermione, wait." I called as she turned and fled the room.

I caught up with her in the hallway on the next floor, in front of the painting the she had been in awe of. "Hermione, please stop." I pleaded, and to my surprise, she did.

Turning to face me, I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. I reached out slowly and took her hand in mine.

"What just happened?" I asked quietly.

"I kissed you," her breath caught in her throat and looked down at her feet.

I squeezed her hand, "I noticed that," I told her, "But why did you run?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you," she shook her head, almost violently, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and the piece you played was so perfect and you looked so beautiful playing it and when you finished I just…and I shouldn't have done that."

"Hey," I said, calmly interrupting her rambling even though my heart was racing. I dared to take a step forward, gently touching her face with my hand, "It's okay that you kissed me. I really don't mind."

She closed her eyes and unconsciously leaned into my hand as I caressed her cheek, "No," she said, her voice breaking, "It's too soon...and I shouldn't be thinking of you like..." She shook her head again.

"Hermione, its okay," I assured her softly, cupping her face in both my hands and forcing her to look at me. "I want this too."

Her tear-filled eyes overflowed and she let out a sob. I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her, expecting her to struggle, to try to get away. But she simply buried her face in my chest and her body shook as she began crying in earnest.

I held her tighter, tucking my chin over her head. I had thought she was moving on, returning to herself, but I couldn't have been further from the truth. She was still holding on to her anger and her hurt, she had just managed to push it all down and pretend that she was fine.

Her sobs slowly subsided and her hands that were fisting my shirt finally relaxed. She looked up at me, and my heart almost broke. Her usually expressive eyes were staring back at me and were lost and confused, and her lips were quivering as she fought to keep herself calm.

I wanted to kiss those lips, wanted to lift her into my arms and carry her to my bed. I wanted to make love to her the way she deserved; slowly, quietly, completely worshipping her. But I held it all back and instead I pressed my lips to her forehead and then smiled.

"You kissed me," I said and she nodded, "Is that something you've been thinking about? Something you want to do again?"

"I wanted to kiss you," she admitted timidly, "It seems that it's all I  _can_  think about lately…well, that and the fact that I shouldn't be thinking about it."

"Why shouldn't you be thinking about it?"

She shrugged, "I keep thinking that it's too soon, that I should wait for…I don't know."

I bent slightly to look her in the eyes, "What do you need to wait for?"

She covered her face with her hands and I waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. She stood quietly, without moving as the seconds ticked by, and I finally, carefully, pulled her hands away from her face.

"Hermione, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

She exhaled a shaky breath, "I don't know how long is appropriate."

"Appropriate?" I frowned, "What do you—"

_Oh!_

In typical Granger style, she was trying to find an answer, an answer that didn't exist. What was appropriate for one person was inappropriate for another, but I knew that in her analytical mind, she would need an exact time. It had only been two months since she had discovered her cheating boyfriend and I knew that she would be struggling with these new feelings that had arisen in such a short amount of time.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, "There's no answer to that," I said honestly, "And only you will know when you're ready. But until then, I will wait."

Her hands fisted my shirt at my hips, "But…" she hiccupped, "Why would you wait?"

"Because I know you're worth it," I told her.

"You don't mean that."

"I do mean it. Right now, you don't think you're worth anything, but you're wrong. I've waited so long for you that waiting a little longer won't kill me." She shook her head and I sighed, "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know Draco," She shuddered and sucked in several gulps of air, "I've been lied to so many times, I don't know what the truth is anymore."

I gathered her in my arms and kissed the top of her head, "The truth is, I know what I want Hermione, and what I want is you."

A choked sob stole from her throat, but I felt her arms wrap around my middle. Her head rested on my shoulder and I felt the tiny spasms in her chest as she slowly calmed herself. We stood wrapped together for what seemed like forever, until her breathing became more even, and a small sigh sounded as an easy silence fell over us.

I cradled her head in one hand and leaned my cheek to her crown. She was tiny in my arms, her slight frame fitting perfectly against me, and despite the fact that she was shivering, she was warm, and her soft scent was all around me. It felt natural to finally hold her, to comfort her with my body, rather than just words.

"I like that painting," She whispered, and a laugh vibrated through my chest. I heard her own small giggle, and I hugged her tighter.

"We can stay here looking at it all night, if you want."

She shook her head and looked up at me, "I think I need to go."

"Do you need me to sleep on your couch?" I asked, hoping that I didn't sound too desperate.

"No," she said with a sad smile, "I think, I need..."

I cupped her face, "You need some space?"

She nodded, "Is that okay?"

"It is," I said, "But please stay. Don't run away."

"I won't." She reached up and touched my cheek, "I'll come and see you tomorrow?"

"Of course." I leaned in and pressed my lips to her forehead, lingering for several seconds before pulling back.

She stepped out of my embrace and took a steadying breath. She smiled at me and nodded, and then disappeared from my hallway.

* * *

 

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I rested my chin on my knees, staring into the fire, trying to lose myself in the slow, intricate dance that the flames were performing. I was struggling to stay afloat and not drown in the overwhelming jumble of thoughts and emotions that were clouding my brain. I knew I wouldn't sleep. I needed to process what had happened, and why I had reacted like I had.

I had kissed him. I had kissed Draco Malfoy. And the surge of emotions that I had felt in those few seconds our lips were pressed together had shocked me. Draco Malfoy had shocked me.

The insults that had been the norm when we were children no longer existed, and instead had been replaced with flirty teasing and playful banter. We'd had long conversations on the beach about books and potions; my parents; his father. We'd eaten together, laughing about his spoiled, entitled upbringing and my life before I learned I was a witch. And through all of it, I had surprisingly become friends with Draco Malfoy.

And then it became so much more. He was everywhere, every minute of my day. He had crept into my entire being, and even in my sleep – as broken as it was - I couldn't escape him as he flitted through my dreams. Every time he had come near me, I felt a heat rise within me that I hadn't been able to tamp down. And every smile, every laugh, every glimmer in those grey eyes, had managed to slip beneath my skin making all the feelings that were brewing inside of me even stronger.

And I was confused.

Six years was a long time to share your life with someone, to be completely and blissfully in love. And two months after it all ended was nowhere near enough time to be feeling what I was feeling. How did you move on after such a devastating betrayal, from what you thought your life was going to be? How did you push all of that aside, all the laughter, all the tears, all the adventures, all the plans for the future?

It wasn't possible to move on so quickly, to want to be with someone else.

_Was it?_

He had changed more than I could have ever imagined. The cutting, hurtful boy had emerged from the ruins of the war as a gentler, caring, funny, and far kinder person. He had apologised for his behaviour, had asked my forgiveness for the way he had treated me, had shown a vulnerability that I hadn't thought possible in him. And in my own weakness, my own vulnerability, he had held me close and had comforted me.

I closed my eyes and ran my finger along my lips. A sense of passion, of longing, of wanting had filled me in the few seconds we had sat staring at each other, and I wasn't sure what it was that drove me to do it - maybe it had been the dark gaze in his eyes, or the masculine scent of him filling my senses - but I was unable to stop the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him.

And his lips had been exactly how I had imagined; soft and strong, and feeling his mouth on my own had stirred something inside me that felt almost foreign.

But his gentle hands in my hair and on my face – the same hands that held me mesmerised as they moved fluidly over the piano keys - had all been too much. It was a tenderness I hadn't been prepared for, and my instincts to run had kicked in and I needed to get as far away from him as possible.

What I hadn't expected was for him to chase me, to tell me that my kissing him was perfectly okay, and the shock of his declaration to wait for me was my breaking point. But when he pulled me to him, I had felt the warmth of his body pressed against mine, the possessiveness of his arms wrapped tightly around me, his need to protect me and I had felt nothing but a sense of being completely safe.

I had never before felt such an intense need to have another person near me, touching me, holding me, and it was a need that I couldn't explain. But it was also a need that felt completely natural.

I turned and looked towards his house and saw the light in the small window that face my cottage, and I knew that he was there, that he was watching over me.

I felt the tears return, and I brushed them away, hugging my knees even tighter to my chest. I should have let him come here with me. I should have let him sleep on my couch. I should have slept soundly listening to his even breaths and I should have woken with him within an arms length of me.

But above all, I shouldn't have let my hurt and anger overshadow what I was beginning to feel for him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I had been sitting on my deck for hours watching the dark clouds roll back in. It seemed that winter was truly settling in and the small reprieve we'd had from the stormy weather was almost over, and the darkening clouds were about to burst all over again.

I was curled up on the deck chair, wrapped snugly in a blanket, my pink beanie that I had tossed into the air when I first arrived here, was firmly pulled over my ears. The kind, hand-made gesture from my once future mother-in-law was too much to part with and I had retrieved it almost as soon as it had left my hands.

From the very first time I had met her Molly Weasley had been kind and generous and had welcomed me into her family long before her son and I were anything. And because of that, I couldn't bear to part with even just the small gift that was my favourite beanie. She wasn't at fault for her sons' actions, and I had chided myself for being so blatantly careless with it.

I ran my fingers along the soft wool and sighed. It was just one more thing I would have to come to terms with; the loss of yet another part of my family. Looking out over the choppy sea, I swallowed the lump in my throat. I refused to cry one more tear over Ronald Weasley. He had made his choice, and his choice wasn't me.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, calming myself. I'd had very little sleep - just minutes at a time - but my thoughts were clear. I liked being with Draco. I liked our conversations, I liked our walks on the beach, and once I had stopped torturing myself over the fact that I had kissed him, I realised that I had  _liked_  kissing him.

It had been hours since our encounter and I could still feel his lips on mine. I could still taste him, could still smell his scent all around me. My fingers itched to feel the warmth of his skin again, and I wanted to feel his arms wrapped tightly around me.

But I also wanted to take my time; I wouldn't rush into anything with him. I was still nervous that it was too soon, regardless of how intense my feelings had become. And I certainly wasn't going to have sex with him just for the sake of it; even though my timid little fantasy had grown and I had begun to imagine just how good it would be with him.

I looked up at his house, wondering if he was watching me;  _knowing_  that he would be watching me. I knew that I had promised to see him, and as much as I wanted to go to him, a tiny part of me was enjoying the fact that he would be watching me and worrying about when it was I would actually move from my cosy spot on my deck and make my way to his house.

I smiled. He had nothing to worry about. The last few hours my entire world had become him. Every other thought – my job, my friends, Ronald, the gossip – had all disappeared and I was left with just him.

It had been bad enough that he'd witnessed my teary display the first night he cooked dinner for me, but my snotty, sobbing, red-faced, puffy-eyed display the previous night should have had him running - no, sprinting - away. But he hadn't. He had simply held me and let me cry.

And he'd somehow, in that simple act, managed to make it better. Had made me feel better. Had made me feel that I was in a safe place. And it was a place that I was wholly comfortable with.

I shifted in my seat, my bare feet hitting the cool boards of the deck as the first fat drops of rain began to fall. I glanced once more at the sea as the swells picked up and crashed their way to the shore. And what I realised was that I wanted to give this - us - a shot. I wanted to know if the feelings that were coursing through me were just an itch I wanted to scratch, or if indeed they were something more.

I knocked lightly on the door, even though I had made myself at home in his house on more than one occasion. I was not sure what the protocol was for returning to the house of the man that you kissed and then fled in tears from. I was nervous about what his reaction to me would be. He had said that he wanted this, wanted me, but my own protective instincts told me that he could still be playing me.

There was no answer and I saw no one inside when I peered through the window. I opened the door and stepped inside, and a smile spread across my face. The quiet strains of a melancholic, yet somehow peaceful melody filtered down the stairs, explaining his absence from his usual place on the couch.

I followed the sounds, stopping briefly at the Chagall painting, running my fingertip lightly along the frame and admiring it once more before making my way towards the top floor of the house. I stopped in the doorway, watching silently as Draco sat hunched over the piano, a slight frown on his face.

My father's love of classical music had influenced me, but I couldn't place the piece he was playing. It was sweet and gentle and mellow but highly emotive, and yet again he seemed drawn into the music, the frown on his face one of concentration rather than that of consternation. Why he kept this to himself was a tragedy for all those who didn't get to hear it, but when sly and cunning were the motto that had followed you for your entire life, a sweet piano concerto was something that he was most likely to be teased relentlessly about, and the nasty, purist image that he had maintained would have been tainted.

As if sensing me, he looked up. His hands faltered and I asked him to keep playing. He simply nodded and I crossed the room and sat in the armchair, curling my feet beneath me and closing my eyes. I knew that we had to talk, but for just a few moments, I wanted to pretend that everything was fine and just listen to him play.

The quiet pitter-patter on the windows, as the rain that had been threatening all morning finally began to fall, did nothing to dampen the exquisite sounds that his nimble fingers were playing. I let the music wash over me, drifting away as the notes rose and swelled, then quieted to a soft, dreamy melody.

"Hermione?"

The music stopped instantly and my eyes flew open.

"Pansy?"

She crossed the room in a flash, dragging me from the chair and engulfing me. "Thank fuck you're okay," She said, "Where the hell have you been?"

I untangled myself from her arms and glanced over her shoulder. Draco was now standing, a look of panic on his face, and I was sure mine reflected the same.

"I've been…" I turned my gaze back to her and she gave me a questioning look. "I've been hiding."

She looked startled, as if she suddenly realised where she was. "You've been here? With him?" She turned to Draco, " _You've_  been hiding her? You knew all along where she was?"

"No!" We both said in unison.

She looked between us, and then pointed her finger at me, "Do not go anywhere. I'm getting Harry and Ginny," she said, not waiting for an explanation as to why I was in Draco's house.

"No," I said, "Pansy, I'm not ready—"

"I don't care if you're ready or not. They're going out of their minds with worry." She snapped, "Harry is about a day away from setting the Aurors on you, and if he does, everyone will know where you are. Both of you."

I looked at Draco, and watched as his shoulders slumped, and I knew that Pansy was right. I couldn't hide forever, and if Harry did send the Aurors to find us, then yes, the entire world would know not only where I was, but where Draco was also.

I sighed, "Fine Pansy. Bring them. But only them."

She stepped back, but Draco grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Pansy," He said quietly, "Downstairs, not up here, okay?"

She frowned at him, but nodded and instantly disappeared. I stared at the spot that she had vanished from, and I felt the nervous tension knot in my stomach. She said they'd been worried, but I knew better. They'd be furious. Furious that I'd left, furious that I'd been gone for so long, and doubly furious when they discovered where I was.

He gripped my shoulder, "Talk to me."

I shrugged, "I should have told them sooner, I guess."

He pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head, "Well, they'll be here any minute, but we'll deal with them downstairs together."

I nodded, understanding why he had told Pansy to remain downstairs when she came back. This was his sanctuary, his place of solitude. And, considering that virtually no one knew where he lived, I guessed that very few people knew about it.

"Wait," I said, "Are you sure about them coming here? I know they won't tell anyone, but—"

He pressed his finger to my mouth, silencing me. "It's fine." He said and dragged his finger across my lips, a flash of lust flickering in his eyes.

"We still have to talk," I said quietly, nervously.

"I know," He murmured and pulled me closer to him. He pressed his forehead gently to mine, "It can wait. I told you I'm not going anywhere."

"What do I tell them?"

"The truth," he told me, "That you're staying in the cottage, that you had no idea that it was mine and that you had no idea that I lived here. You simply met me on the beach," He smiled at me, "And that we've become friends."

"Is that what this is?"

"You know it's more than that," he pressed a quick kiss to my lips, surprising me, "But right now, they don't have to know anything more than what you want them to know."

I didn't want them to know anything. Truthfully, I didn't want them to even come here. I was enjoying the quiet, enjoying being away from the constant scrutiny of the entire world. And I was enjoying being with Draco, enjoying getting to know him without prying eyes, enjoying the secrecy of it. And I was suddenly annoyed that it was all about to end.

"I don't want to tell them anything," I said rather sulkily, "I want to keep hiding."

He chuckled, "You sound like me."

"Yeah, well, I've not had any other influences in my life for months," I grumped, "You've clearly rubbed off on me."

He grinned at me and I pressed my fingers to his mouth realising that my choice of phrase had not been wise, "Don't"

"Don't what?" He said, his voice muffled behind my hand.

"What ever dirty thought it is that you're thinking, keep it inside your head."

He laughed, "I have no idea what you mean."

I shook my head and smiled, wanting so much to stay in the bubble that we had created. I wanted to keep the first stirrings of this thing that was building between us, well, between us. His gaze searched my face and I knew that he thinking the same thing. He lifted his hand to my cheek and leaned forward, but we both jumped as a voice echoed up the stairs.

"Get your arses down here!" Pansy hollered from two floors below. "Now!"

"They're going to hate you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. That's why you need to go first," Draco said making me laugh. "If they start aiming curses at me, they'll hit you instead."

I pressed my hand to his chest, "You need me to protect you, Malfoy?"

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, "Always, Granger."

* * *

 

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

We descended the stairs, Hermione shaking her head and muttering about Slytherin cowards as she walked in front of me. I took a breath as we finally made our way down to the living room, all the while wondering just how they would all react to finding her here in my house.

I was sure that Pansy's announcement that she had found Hermione was met with relief, but I was also sure that when she also announced that she was hiding out with Draco Malfoy, the shock would have been palpable.

She had barely stepped off the bottom step when Ginny engulfed her, clutching Hermione to her as if she would disappear again. I stopped a few steps behind her and watched as Potter took his turn to hug her, both friends looking at her with a mixture of relief and concern.

I felt Pansy's eyes on me, and I refused to look up at her. We had been friends for too long and I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was well aware of my feelings when it came to Hermione, and I was positive that she was thinking that somehow I had managed to convince her to hide with me so I could have my way with her. She was wrong, of course and was about to find out the truth, but I knew that she was sure there was more going on than my simply offering a refuge to a friend.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Malfoy?" Ginny snapped, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I moved down the stairs and stepped around them.

"What the hell charm did you use on her?" Ginny snarled and took a step closer to me, shoving her finger in my face, "She wouldn't come here of her own accord, Malfoy, what the hell did you do?"

I rolled my eyes and looked over her shoulder at Hermione. Potter had stepped in front of her, in what I assumed was a form of protection, and I had to stop myself from laughing. I took another step back, moving away from Ginny and her pitiful attempt to scare me.

"Do you honestly think that I could hold her here against her will? Hermione Granger? Really?" I shot her a look that clearly let her know I thought her stupid. I waved my hand between the pair and spoke directly to Hermione, "Did you want to explain to these  _lovely_  people what happened?"

Her lips twitched and I knew that she was as close to laughing as I was. Her friends meant well, of course they did. If the situation was reversed, Pansy and Blaise would be all over Hermione in a heartbeat.

She stepped away from them and took a breath. "I rented the cottage down there," she pointed towards the window, indicating the small cottage that had been her home for the past two and a half months. "I had no idea at the time that Draco owned it. Nor did I know that he lived here."

I grinned as their eyes widened at her use of my first name. It had shocked me the first time she used it, so I knew how they felt.

"It wasn't until I'd been here for about a week that I ran into him on the beach. Well, actually he ran into me." She looked up at me and smiled, "And he promised me that he wouldn't tell anyone that I was here."

Pansy slapped his arm, "Really? You didn't think we would be worried?"

I nodded, "I knew that you all would be, but I gave her my word."

Potter made a snorting sound, "And your word means…"

I glared at him, "You can think what you like, Potter. But when I give my word, I mean it."

"Right," he drawled.

"Can we not get into a pissing contest here, please?" Hermione cut in.

I held my hand up and nodded, "Sorry, you're right, this is not about me and Potter." Again, the shocked looks made me smile.

"Hermione," Ginny said, "Why'd you leave without telling us?"

"I needed space." She said simply, "I needed some peace and quiet, and if you all knew where I was, I wouldn't have gotten that."

I watched as flickers of hurt crossed their faces. I wanted to tell them all that they deserved it, that had they simply sat and listened to her, we wouldn't be in my house, having the conversation that we were. And this conversation was not at all what I had expected. I assumed that there would be yelling – at me – and tears and hugs for her. But what was happening here was tinged with anger, anger that probably needed to be let out.

"We could have done that for you," Potter said, "You just had to tell us to back off."

"Would you have though?" She asked, and his head lowered. She huffed out a frustrated breath, and ran her hand across her face. "I needed time to think, okay? I needed to be away from everything. It was all too much. And I'm sorry that I left like I did, but it was the only way."

"Were we that bad?" Pansy asked.

"Yes." She replied and shrugged.

Ginny made a choking sound and her jaw clenched, and I could see her temper flaring at Hermione's simple response. "So staying here with him," she stabbed her finger in my direction, "Was a better option?"

"I'm not staying with him," Hermione reminded her, "But yes, it was the better option."

"And what exactly was it that we did that was so horrendous that you had to up and leave without a word?"

"What you did," Hermione said and I could see her own temper picking up, "was constantly tell me how much of an arse Ron was – is - and how you all thought I could do so much better than him. That I deserved someone better than him."

"And the problem with that is?" Ginny snapped.

"For the six years prior to that, you thought we were perfect for each other and then suddenly we weren't!?" She pointed at Ginny, "You were constantly telling me you couldn't wait until we were sisters!"

Potter took a step forward, "Hermione, we were just—"

"I loved him, I was  _in love_  with him, and you all told me to simply forget him? Like it was easy? How was I supposed to do that?" Hermione's voice rose and everyone tensed, realisation setting in. "And then I had to hear you all tell me that I could do better? Really? You couldn't have told me that six years ago? You're all so sure that he wasn't good enough for me, but you didn't think to tell me that before I got my heart ripped out?"

She sucked in a breath and I could see the tears building, "Do you know how I felt hearing you all say that? I felt like an idiot. I felt like I was so stupid that I couldn't see who he really was, but you all could. And now you're all here again, assuming that Draco hexed me because I'm so stupid!"

Her tears spilled over and she brushed furiously at them. I stepped closer and put my hand on her shoulder and she pointed at me, "He was the only one who actually listened to me. He's the only one who did what I asked. And unlike you three, not once has he said anything negative or nasty to me about Ron. He's kept his thoughts to himself and has only ever asked how I'm feeling."

She turned and moved to sit on the couch, lifting her knees to her chest, a position that I had come to know well. She was protecting herself, even if these were her friends.

The silence in the room was deafening as her words sank in. Even I had to admit I was shocked. She'd only told me that she had needed to get away from the craziness, she hadn't told me what they had said or how deeply their words had hurt her.

I sat on the coffee table in front of her, ignoring them all. I touched her foot, "Talk to me."

She looked up at me and gave me a watery smile. It had become our thing. I'd tell her to talk to me and she would unload on me. "I should have known. I should have seen it coming. I  _am_ an idiot."

"No you're not," Ginny said and sat beside her, taking her hand.

She looked at her friends, "Sorry."

"No," Potter said and sat beside me, "Don't apologise. And you're not stupid. Far from it."

"And we're sorry," Pansy said, perching herself on the arm of the couch beside her. "We shouldn't have been so thoughtless."

Hermione looked at Ginny, "I need to stay here. I know I need to come back eventually, but right now," she paused and looked at me, "I just want to be here."

I squeezed her foot, "And you're welcome for as long as you need."

"Thank you," she quietly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at me, but I could see the anger had left her. "Well, as long as he's not being an arse."

"He's not." Hermione reassured her.

"Fine," Ginny leaned in and hugged her, "But we'll still be checking in on you."

"But of course, we'll let you know before we arrive though." Pansy added. "I don't need any more surprises."

Hermione craned her neck back to look up her, "Nothing's happening between us, Pansy. We're just friends."

Pansy placed her hand over her heart and managed to look insulted, despite the smirk on her face, "I was thinking no such thing."

* * *

 

"I didn't mean it," Hermione said as she stood beside me, drying dishes from the dinner that had been hurriedly thrown together, when I – surprising even myself – insisted that they all stay.

Dinner had started out awkwardly, with Hermione's admission of being hurt by their comments, no matter how supportive they had meant them to be. But without one mention of Weasley's name, dinner had become a reminiscence of our time at school, and Potter regaling us with the less serious, and very humorous, dealings at the Aurors office.

Pansy's eyes had been watching us carefully the entire time, and I made sure not to touch or even look too long at Hermione. But I knew that it was all for naught. Pansy was far too shrewd to believe Hermione's 'just friends' comment. But thankfully she kept her thoughts to herself. Although, I knew a full interrogation was imminent.

"Didn't mean what?" I let the water out of the sink and dried my hands.

"That we were just friends." She rolled her eyes as I smirked, "But you knew that."

I stepped closer to her, taking the dish towel from her and tossing it on the counter. I took her hands in mine, kissing her knuckles, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah. It was a little more intense than I thought it would be."

"I think it needed to be said though." I led her to the couch, ignoring her protests that she'd not finished cleaning up. I pulled her legs over mine, "Talk to me."

She frowned and I ran my hand along her calf.

"You came here earlier and I assume that before we were interrupted, you had planned to talk to me."

She sighed "You said you'd wait for me?" I nodded and she lowered her eyes to her lap before she continued, "I don't want you to wait."

My hand stopped moving on her leg and the thought that she had decided she didn't want this had me holding my breath. "Hermione, what—"

But I didn't get the chance to finish. She leaned in towards me and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth, before pulling away and smiling at me.

"Are you sure?" I asked, and she nodded.

"But…" she dropped her eyes again.

I lifted her chin, "But?"

"I don't want to rush this," she said quietly, "I don't want to just fall into bed with you just to scratch an itch. I want more than that. Much more."

I nodded, still slightly dazed at what she was saying. "I told you I'd wait, and I meant it," I slid my hand up her arm and over her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck and leaning my forehead against hers, "I want to know everything about you, Hermione, and I'm happy to take my time in doing that."

"Good," she whispered and kissed me again, a number of small pecks, parting our mouths over and over until I gripped the back of her head and held her against me.

I wanted this kiss, our first, real kiss to be deep and hard, with heat behind it. I wanted her to know that I meant every word I said, that I would wait until she was ready for more, but I also wanted her to know how I felt.

She pulled away, brushing her fingertips over her swollen lips. It was the same gesture she had made the previous night and I held my breath.

But this time she didn't flee. Instead she reached those same fingers to my lips, her eyes moving over my face, studying me, as if waiting for the hurtful barbs of our youth to return.

I smiled at her, circling her wrist and rubbing my thumb gently over her skin. I turned her hand and kissed her palm, letting her decide if this was enough for tonight.

She took a breath, and slowly leaned back and dropped to the couch. I followed, sliding beside her, propping myself up on one elbow and trying not to press my full weight against her. But she pulled me closer, and I shifted until I was half laying on top of her, one of my legs wedged between hers.

Her eyebrows lifted when she felt me hard against her hip and she grinned, "We were only kissing."

"Well aware," I said gritting my teeth and trying not to thrust against her.

"Sorry," she bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

"It's fine," I told her, "I've got hands, I'll deal with it later."

She snorted, burying her head in my chest, her body shaking as she tried not laugh out loud. I lifted her face, and smiled at the sight; her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed, a sight that had been rare in the past few months. I kissed her again, stopping her laughter, stroking her tongue with mine, teasing her.

"I am sorry," She said, stroking my cheek tenderly, "I'm just not ready for anything more than this right now."

"And until you tell me otherwise, I'll be happy just kissing you, okay?"

She nodded, leaning back in and time seemed to stand still. Our mouths lingered, meeting and parting, the soft taste of wine on her tongue as it moved against my own. I threaded my fingers through her hair, circling my thumb against the skin behind her ear, trading kisses with her, slow and unhurried.

I kissed along her jaw, nuzzling her neck, nipping and kissing at her soft skin. The breathy sounds that were close to my ear were doing nothing to tamp down the growing problem in my pants.

She sighed and pushed gently against my chest.

"Too much?" I asked.

"No, it's fine, but..." she sighed again as I brushed my fingers down her arm, "Can we just lay here? Sleep maybe?"

"Couch buddies it is." I said and she giggled. I dropped one more kiss on her mouth and shifted, rolling us both so we were face to face, on our sides. I reached for my wand on the side table. I pointed it at the blanket that was folded over the back of the armchair and it floated over to us.

I covered us over and pulled her closer to me, not remembering the last time I just held a woman in my arms.

"Draco?" I felt her relax against me.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

I wasn't sure what she was thanking me for, but I murmured  _you're welcome_  and closed my eyes. I listened to her breathing as it grew long and steady. I pressed my lips to her forehead, wanting her to be as close to me as possible as I slowly drifted into the world of dreams with her.

 


	10. Chapter 10

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

The clearing of a throat pulled me from my sleep. I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning light.

"Good morning." A too cheerful voice said.

I lifted my head and was greeted with Pansy's amused face. I yawned, "Good morning, Pansy." I smiled at her and then dropped my head back onto Draco's arm.

"Just friends, huh?" Pansy chortled, " _Ri-ght_."

"Why are you here?" Draco muttered, his eyes still closed, and I laughed.

"Well, I was coming to ask you what the hell was really going on with you and Granger," She grinned down at us, "But it would appear that I have my answer."

"Pansy," He mumbled, his voice still sleepy, "Go away."

She laughed, "Fine, you have ten minutes. And I'll be back. You're not getting out of this so easily."

I caught her eyes and she winked at me. I had thought she would be pissed at us for denying any and all interactions other than friendship the previous night, but she seemed to be delighted to have stumbled upon us. I grinned at her - I couldn't help it - just before she disapperated.

"Good morning," I said, softly brushing my fingertips across his cheek.

Draco's eyes slowly blinked open and I smiled at him. He was scruffy and sleep wrinkled, and looking the most dishevelled I had ever seen him. We had barely moved from the positions that we'd fallen asleep in. My head was still pillowed on his bicep, and his arm was slung over my hip, his hand splayed against the curve of my spine, holding me tightly against him. Our legs were intertwined and I couldn't help but notice the morning bulge that was pressed against me.

And pressed as I was between his body and the back of the couch allowed me a sense of safety and I knew that it had been a long time since I had felt so content.

He smiled sleepily, his eyes still droopy, "Good morning."

"Are you awake?"

He murmured incoherently and closed his eyes. I chuckled, Draco Malfoy wasn't a morning person. "Not a morning person, huh?"

He opened his eyes and smiled again, "Usually I am. But,  _hmmm_ , this morning I can't seem to wake up."

"I wonder why?"

He sighed, "I have no idea."

"Well, we have ten...no about nine minutes, before she's back."

It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He shifted our positions, pulling me beneath him, his weight fully on top of me. He cradled my head and kissed me hard, his tongue slipping between my open lips and sliding against mine. For several long moments we simply kissed, and a deep and heavy desire grew inside me.

He ground himself against me, and I gasped.

"Sorry," He whispered close to my ear and then ground against me again, proving he wasn't sorry in the least. He groaned, sending a shiver down my spine, " _Shit._ You feel amazing under me."

His mouth found mine once more in a hard, bruising kiss that left me breathless and with a sudden urge for more than just his kiss. I gripped his hips and held him to me, whimpering at the sensation of him hard against my core.

He continued to grind against me, a slow, measured rhythm that had his name falling from my lips on a shaky exhale. I didn't want him to stop and I began to move slowly against him, chasing the friction that he had built in me in less than a minute. A friction that had me wishing that Pansy wasn't on her way back.

But he didn't seem to care. He leaned down just enough to brush his mouth over mine. "Do you want me to stop?"

I moved my hand under his shirt, pressing my fingers into his warm skin. He opened his mouth, sucking on my tongue, gently biting my lower lip. Heat pulsed through me, and I knew instantly that I wanted more.

I whispered his name and he shifted forward, the hard shape of him pressing directly over the seam of my jeans. I gasped, rocking harder against him, and cursing the fact we were both fully clothed.

"Good?" he asked, pressing himself deliberately against my clit. "Does it feel good  _there_?"

"Yeah," I groaned, "I need  _more_." My voice sounded harsh, almost desperate, but I didn't care. I moved my hands to his arse and pulled him harder into me, shuddering at his hot breath on my neck as he rocked faster against me.

The heavy ache inside me grew and I could feel how wet I was becoming, and the need to have him inside me was overwhelming. I didn't care that Pansy could be back any second; I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want to lose the dizzying feeling that was creeping along my spine.

His mouth was everywhere, and I shuddered again, closing my eyes and losing myself to the sensation of his tongue as it moved over me. He kissed my throat, my jaw, my lips, all the while grinding harder and faster over me, chasing his own need.

I felt myself start to fall and my breath caught in my throat as a rush of pleasure exploded between my thighs. I dug my fingers into his hips, feeling him speed up. His hands gripped my hair and his mouth covered mine as he ground once, twice, three times before groaning into my mouth and collapsing against me.

When he finally lifted his head to look at me, his eyes were wide. "Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean—"

I pressed my fingers against his lips, "Don't ever apologise for that."

"But I told you I wouldn't," he pressed his forehead to my shoulder, "I am sorry."

I soothed my hands down his back, "I'm not."

He chuckled, "Not disappointed then?"

I frowned at him, "Disappointed?"

His cheeks went pink, "I, ah...I'm not usually that, um...quick."

"Well," I huffed out a breath, blowing the hair from my face, "We  _were_  given a time restraint."

He kissed me quickly and pushed up slightly, "I don't mean to run off...but, ah..."

I laughed, "Go," I told him, knowing that he would be uncomfortable and needing to clean up. "She'll be back any second."

He kissed me again, three quick presses to my lips, and then pushed himself off me. I watched as he raced up the stairs and then I flopped back down to the couch, flinging my arm across my eyes. I sucked in several slow, deep breaths, attempting to slow my racing pulse. If it felt that good to be with him fully clothed, how would he feel completely naked? It would be so good, I instinctively knew, and after what had just happened, I had no idea why I was so nervous.

I had felt more heat surging through me than I had felt in years. I had felt more passion, felt more desired, more...everything.

But I had become so used to having such low expectations when it came to any kind of intimacy with another person that my dread of having to reveal just how limited my experience was had grown tenfold.

I leaned my head on the back of the couch and sighed.

"Ten minutes wasn't long enough?"

I looked up to see Pansy smirking at me, but was surprised to see Ginny standing beside her. I scrambled off the couch and stood staring guiltily at Ginny.

"Ah," I stammered, "No, it was plenty of time." I said and then balked at their wide-eyed expressions. "No, I meant..." I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my hand across my forehead. When I opened my eyes and Ginny was smiling at me. I ran my hand through my hair and winced. I could only imagine what I looked like.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I was actually down there," she indicated towards the cottage, "Imagine my surprise when Pansy told me you were up here."

"This was the first time I've spent the night here, and nothing happened. We were just sleeping." The words tumbled quickly from my mouth.

"You don't have to justify this," she said, "You're a grown woman, only you can decide what's best for you."

"You're not mad?"

"Look," she began, taking my hand in hers and pulling me back down to the couch to sit beside her, "You've been through hell, and that fucker—. Sorry, I mean, my brother didn't care a whiff about your feelings when he did what he did. And if Malfoy has been someone who you can talk to, then who I am to argue with you? And why would we be mad?"

"I thought that maybe you would think..." I shrugged.

Pansy sat the other side of me, "You thought maybe we'd think it's too soon?"

I nodded.

"Can I ask if anything has happened between you two?" Ginny asked.

"No, nothing has happened," Draco answered for me. He came down the stairs dressed in his running gear. "Hermione will decide when she's ready, and nothing  _will_  happen until then."

"I wasn't accusing, Malfoy." Ginny said calmly, "I was just—" She turned to look at him and her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. I stifled my giggle - I could only assume that it was the same expression I'd had on my face when I had first seen him dressed as such.

I stood and greeted him, "You're running?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I figured these two would want to interrogate you, so I'll give you some space."

"Maybe we wanted to interrogate you too." Pansy said.

"Oh, I'm certain that you do," he replied, "But right now, Hermione needs a chance to talk to you both, and she doesn't need me here while she does."

"You don't need to leave," I told him.

"I know. But..." He squeezed my shoulders and I knew exactly why he needed to leave; he was wound as tightly as I was and he needed to run the frustration away.

He looked longingly at me. He wanted to kiss me; I wanted him to kiss  _me_. But I knew that he wouldn't. Not with the audience we had. He glanced at Pansy and Ginny and I watched his jaw clench. He huffed out a breath and turned on his heel, and sauntered out the door.

I sat in the armchair opposite them and wondered exactly what they were making of all this. I had left without a word over two months ago leaving them, I'm sure, panicked out of their minds. And then they had found me last night in his house, denying anything more than friendship with him, then the very next morning I was found curled up with him on the couch. And I knew that there was no way Pansy hadn't told Ginny.

I wasn't sure that I was ready to confess my feelings for him to them yet, but I knew that I owed them something. I grimaced. It was just one more thing that I was concerned about; how my friends would react to me being with him. And more importantly, how his friends would react to his being with me.

Ginny was still staring at the door that he had just left through, her expression was still that of shock.

But I could sympathise with her. He was no longer the pale, scrawny boy we all remembered. He had filled out; a broad chest beneath his shirts, ropey muscles in his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. And his arse. I was guilty of looking at it more than once, and had pictured it in my mind most nights before falling asleep. Only in my mind it wasn't hidden behind well fitted trousers or tight running pants; it was naked and on display for only me.

"Gin?" Pansy said pulling her from her stupor, "You alright?"

Ginny looked at her and then me, her eyes still wide, "Are we sure that's Malfoy?"

I snorted a laugh, "I hope so."

Pansy quirked an eyebrow, "Oh, the way he looks at you? It's him alright."

I felt myself blush. She clearly knew more than I thought. And her simple statement had me wondering just how long he had been waiting for me. I pulled my legs to my chest – a habit that I was trying to break, but failing miserably at – and studied her face. Her eyes were wide and expectant, wanting an answer that would appropriately explain the behaviour she had just witnessed. She was shrewd and saw through most people's bullshit. And I had the distinct feeling that she knew exactly what had been going on with us.

"So," Pansy said leaning forward and steeling me with a knowing glare, "What's going on here? This whole 'just friends' line that you're spinning, do you want to clarify it?"

I looked at Ginny, whose face had gone from looking shocked at Draco's appearance, to being somewhat amused at my discomfort.

"Hey, like I said last night," she shrugged, as if reading my mind, "As long as he's not being an arse and he treats you with respect, I'm perfectly fine with this." She paused and tilted her head to the side, "Besides, you look different."

"Different?" I asked.

She nodded, "Good different."

"Definitely good." Pansy agreed, "You look happy."

"Was I  _that_  miserable before?"

"No," Ginny shook her head, "This is a different happy. That spark is back in your eyes. And someone who is  _just a friend_ wouldn't have that effect."

I smiled at her. As much as she was a pragmatist, she was also a hopeless romantic. I was sure that in the few hours that had passed, she would have already conjured up the image of me and Draco tangled together, sweaty and exhausted, in some romantic fantasy where we both realised that all the drama and all the loathing we had as teenagers was just a smoke screen and suddenly all our hidden feelings would tumble out and we knew that we were perfect for each other.

I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to tell them. I looked between them both as they patiently waited. "It's difficult to describe," I finally said. "At first I thought he was here to make fun of me, to be the cruel and insensitive arse that he was. But," I sighed and shook my head, "He surprised me. He's...I didn't think I needed someone to make me feel like he does. I didn't think I would want this so soon after everything that happened. And I certainly didn't think I would want it with him."

Pansy looked thoughtfully at me, "So you've liked being here with him?"

I nodded, "I have."

"And you're willing to give him a chance?"

I frowned at what seemed to be a sudden interrogation. "I think I am."

"You  _think_?" She scowled at me, "Listen, you need to know for sure about this. Because if you're starting to feel the way I think you are, you can't rush into this and then regret it, because he is completely in love with you and he doesn't deserve to be simply used as a distraction for you. He wants more than that."

"Pansy," Ginny said slowly, not giving me the chance to respond - although after that bombshell, I wasn't sure I could actually speak. "What are you saying?"

She looked at Ginny and then back to me, "It might come as a surprise to you both to know that he's never wanted someone so badly in his life. And he has been pining after you for longer than you think." She said, "And I just want you to be sure that this is what you want. You're my friend, but he's like my brother. And if you break his heart," she waved her hand in the space between us, "This friendship will all be over."

"And just so you know," Ginny poked her finger into Pansy's arm, "If he breaks her heart, no one will ever find his body."

"And you've not killed your brother because..?"

Ginny grinned, "Because mum would kill  _me_."

I smiled at them both. Two people who I thought were polar opposites were actually the same: feisty and fiercely loyal. "Pansy," I said, "You don't honestly think I would do the same to him as was done to me? Because I assure you, I wouldn't."

"No, I of course you wouldn't," She cocked her head to one side, "But you said you were thinking it's too soon to get involved with anyone else. And you might not believe it, but he's exactly like you when it comes to this. It's all or nothing with him. So you need to be absolutely certain that you want something with him, before you leap into it."

I shook my head, "We might be friends, you and I, but you've just proved that you still know so little about me."

"How's that?" she asked.

"Do you honestly think I would leap into this without any thought? Do you think that I haven't spent hours wondering if I should pursue this? That I wouldn't weigh the pros and cons over wanting to be with Draco Malfoy? The very same Draco Malfoy who made my life hell as a teenager?"

"He only did that because he liked you." She said weakly.

"That doesn't excuse his behaviour." Ginny pointed out.

"Don't worry, I've already told him I've forgiven him." I told them both, "And believe me when I tell you, I have told him I don't want to rush into anything. He knows I'm nervous about this and he has been patient and has said he will wait until I'm ready for more."

"So nothing  _has_  happened?" Ginny asked, sounding surprised.

I chuckled. Twelve hours ago she was ready to kill him, and now she was disappointed that I had no naked stories to share with them. "No Gin. He wasn't lying. Nothing has happened."

"So, the whole thing on the couch was..." Pansy trailed off in her questioning.

My stomached clenched. I didn't want to share anything with them yet, no matter how small or innocent it was. But I knew them both far too well to know that if I didn't give them something, they would relentlessly hound me until I did.

"The whole thing on the couch," I explained, hoping that they wouldn't see through my tiny lie, "Was us simply sleeping, in the literal sense. Nothing more."

Pansy sighed dramatically, "That's disappointing. Draco's barely snapped at anyone this week, and you're all rumpled and happy this morning. I was so hoping that you two..."

I waited for her to say more but she simply sighed again, "That we what?"

Pansy held my eyes with hers, "Did the dance with no pants."

Ginny made a sound that was somewhere between a choke and a laugh. "The  _what_?" She managed to say between laughs.

Pansy shrugged one shoulder, "The dance with no pants. Surely you've heard of it." She turned back to me, "I'm certain Hermione has."

I pursed my lips. "No." I repeated firmly, running my hand through my rumpled hair again. "Nothing has happened."

Ginny was still giggling at Pansy's turn of phrase and wiping her eyes of tears when she looked at me, "Is that why he was frustrated and had to go running?"

"No, he's been frustrated for longer than one night." Pansy answered with a wicked smile on her face. "He's been walking around with a constant hard on now for...I don't know...when was the Yule Ball again?" She asked and then cracked up laughing at my shocked expression.

Ginny snorted - a loud, undignified sound - and slapped her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. I groaned, and covered my face with my hands. Why I had been worried that they would be concerned about this was a mystery. I should have known better. I should have known that they would turn into twelve year olds and the conversation would inevitably fall into the gutter.

I smiled at them both as they tried to get themselves under control and laughingly shook my head.

Pansy had been wrong. The niggling concern that all of this was happening too fast had disappeared. I had spent far too much time worrying about what was considered right and proper, and finally given in to my heart.

It made me believe that the hurt would eventually be nothing more than a distant memory and that it was possible to fall in love all over again.

* * *

 

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

What the hell had happened? What had I been thinking?

I wanted to strip her naked and fuck her senseless, that's what I was thinking. And it was becoming harder and harder to resist her. And having her wrapped around me like she had been, was like some kind of dream.

And for what seemed like the first time in my life, I could barely open my eyes and wake up. I was completely relaxed and had slept soundly. But my body was not satisfied with me ignoring its basest of needs. She was warm and smelled amazing, and was so unknowingly temping. And my brain had been almost screaming at me to ignore my promise to wait and just take her; my hand, after all, could only provide so much relief.

The feel of her beneath me, her tiny gasps and breathy moans. The way she instinctively knew how to move against me. It was all too perfect, too...I didn't have the words.

I groaned.  _What the hell was wrong with me?_

I had assured her that I would wait for her, wait until she was ready. I wanted her to trust me, but the first chance I had gotten, I was all over her and coming in my pants like some horny sixteen year old.

But I didn't think I had ever been so aroused in my life. And,  _fuck!_  We had still been fully clothed. I couldn't remember the last time I dry-humped a girl – probably when I  _was_ a horny sixteen year old. And I hated that I had come so quickly. Not once in my life had I been unable to control myself and I hated that she might think me incapable of more.

But, she hadn't been pissed at me. In fact she had responded in a way that I hadn't expected. I had expected her to tell me to stop, to push me away, but instead she had moved with me, against me, and the breathy way she exhaled my name... _shit._

I wanted to devour her, but I needed to push these feelings down, no matter how difficult it was. I didn't want to complicate this any more than it already was. But right now, my entire world was her. Work had become a simple matter of turning up and leaving again. She was the only focus I had, she was all I truly cared about and she was all I wanted.

I slowed my pace to a walk and looked up to see a figure leaning against the stair rail, smirking at me. I swore under my breath.

Blaise.

_Great._  Just what I needed.

"Isn't it a little too early for you to be out of bed," I asked.

"Aren't you a little too  _frustrated_  to be running?" He countered and I scowled at him.

I shoved past him and began the long climb up the stairs. His footsteps echoed mine and I could tell without looking at him that his face was smug.

"So," he said, "Granger is in your house bright and early this morning, which is  _interesting_  since she's been missing for months."

I didn't respond and he chuckled, "So I can only assume that she's been hiding here and the two of you have been shagging like rabbits?"

I spun around, hating that he'd gotten under my skin so easily. "No," I snapped and pointed at her cottage, "She's been staying there."

He held both his hands up in surrender, "Mate, I was just—"

"You were  _just_ nothing," I waved him off. "You don't get to joke around, or make smart remarks, not when it's her."

He looked at me, nodding, his brows creased, "What's going on?"

I leaned back on the rail and folded my arms across my chest. Blaise had been my friend since childhood and had been the one person I could spill everything to whenever I needed, but this felt different. It felt too close, too private, and I just wanted her to be mine for a while before the world learned about us.

"Nothing's going on," I finally said, "She's... _fuck_!" I rubbed the back of my neck and stared up at the sky. "She's fucking perfect. She's smart and beautiful and funny, and she's still broken from what that fucker did to her."

He leaned on the rail opposite me and I watched his face as he carefully considered his response, "I don't believe that nothing's going on, you've been in love with this girl for far too long for that to be true. How much time have you spent with her?"

"We haven't had sex, if that's what you're asking."

He shook his head, "No. I'm not interested in any details of what you have or haven't done."

"Since when?" I snarked.

"Since this girl is it for you." His face was dead serious. "So tell me what happened. Start from the beginning."

I unfolded my arms and gripped the railing behind me. And I told him. I told him how I ran into her on the beach, how I first cooked for her, how she was flirty and adorable and then bolted when she kissed me. I stopped short of telling him of that mornings' escapade – I wasn't going to reveal that I came in my pants in under three minutes and subject myself to his ridicule.

"That doesn't explain why she's on your couch before nine on a Sunday morning."

"She spent the night last night," I held my hand up at his raised eyebrow. "Nothing happened. We talked, and we both want this. But as I said, she's still wary."

"Because of you?"

I shook my head, "Because of him."

He nodded, understandingly, "She has every right. Maybe we should find him..."

"No," I said firmly, "I won't jeopardise this because of that tosser." He frowned at me and I clarified, "She doesn't want to hear anything negative about him. She blew up at that lot yesterday over their comments about him. I've kept my thoughts to myself and she appreciates that."

"Is that weird?"

"Keeping my thoughts to myself?"

"No," he said with a shake of his head, "That she won't let anyone talk down about him."

I shrugged, "They were together for six years, and she was in love with him." I shuddered at the thought, "And like she told that lot," I nodded towards the house, "She couldn't just turn that off and hate him."

"But she hates him now..?" Blaise hedged carefully.

"I don't think its hate," I said, "But I wouldn't want to be him if he happened to cross her right now."

"Oh, I need to be there on the day that happens." Blaise chortled, and then leaned over and cuffed me on the shoulder, "But seriously, this a good thing, right?"

I couldn't have stopped the grin from splitting my face if I had tried, "Yes. This is a very good thing."

"And you're prepared to wait for her?"

I rolled my eyes at him, "I don't need a lecture. You're not her father."

"No, but I know you and sometimes you have a tendency to get ahead of yourself,"

I frowned at his words, but taking into account my performance on the couch, they rang true. "I know," I admitted, "But this is different. She's..." I trailed off. I didn't know how to explain it to him.

He was watching me closely as a million thoughts rushed through my head. A million hectic thoughts that really all just boiled down to one. Her.

"She's everything you ever wanted, all wrapped up in perfection?"

"That'd be it." I said, "And I won't get ahead of myself this time. I've waited far too long for her to fuck this up."

I pushed off the railing and turned to climb the stairs, and then paused. "No one knows she's here."

"And that will stay the same," He assured me, "I don't relish the thought of Hermione Granger hexing my sweet arse."

"Blaise, I'm being serious here."

"As am I," he said, sounding offended, "Too many women like this arse for it to be messed with."

I glared at him and he laughed.

"Draco. We've been friends for how long?" He gave me a pointed look, "Do you really think you need to tell me to keep my mouth shut about this?"

"Sorry, it's just..." I sighed, "He really did a number on her and I'm still not convinced that she completely trusts me. Pansy, Ginny and Potter know she's here, and she was hesitant for them to know, and they're her friends."

"Wait," he said, holding up his hand, " _Potter_ knows you're shagging her? And you're still alive?"

"I'm not  _shagging_  her," I griped.

"Shagging, not shagging, call it what you want," he shrugged and then his face turned serious, "Listen. Yes, you're right in saying that she's been through hell, but you're wrong if you think she doesn't trust you."

I shot him a sceptical look, but he ignored me, "She considers me her friend, and Pansy, and she's said she wants to be with you?" I nodded and he continued, "So there's no way she'd do that if she didn't trust us. She may have been naive when it came to Weasley, she's not stupid enough to trust the three of us - the same three people who, let's be honest, at one time treated her like crap - if she didn't see the people who we've become."

"That's very philosophical of you." I was surprised at his candour.

"You said to be serious," He chuckled, "And I mean it. She spent the night on your couch, I'm sure that means she trusts you. And you've wanted this for how long now? Stop trying to analyse all of this and just let it happen."

I looked in the direction of my house. Blaise was right. She trusted me. I'd not divulged her whereabouts to anyone, I'd not pushed for anything more than what she wanted. And _I_  had trusted her with the feelings I had divulged to her.

I looked back at Blaise, who was grinning at me.

She was up there, waiting for me and I was down here, being a broody fool.

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

He laughed, "You always have been. But I'm certain that she's the one who'll set you straight."

 


	11. Chapter 11

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

"Draco?" Hermione was on the couch beside me, her legs draped over mine. She smiled up at me and asked, "Is this okay?"

"Hmmm?" I murmured, "Is what okay?"

"This. Us. Reading quietly on a Saturday evening. We're not being boring?"

I lifted my eyes from my book and glanced towards the windows.

The rain was beating softly against the glass and the fire was crackling in the hearth. The quiet afternoon had slowly turned into evening without me even realising it, and we were completely relaxed together on her couch. It would have been the perfect opportunity to turn it into something romantic, to lay her on the rug by the fire, crawl over her and take her breath away over and over again.

But that was a line we still hadn't crossed.

I smiled absently and rubbed my hand across her calf. "I like the quiet. Quiet is good."

She traced a small circle on my arm with the tip of her finger, "Are you sure?"

I looked down at her and my heart skipped a beat. Her eyes had darkened, and I had the distinct feeling that the thoughts of being naked in front of the fire were not mine alone.

Her hand slid slowly up my chest, cupping the back of my neck and drawing me in closer. But before I had a chance to wrap my brain around her intentions, the universe had other plans, and a loud knock sounded on the door.

We both jumped, startled, bolting upright and turned to see Ginny and Pansy grinning like idiots, with their faces squashed against the glass, Blaise and Potter standing behind them.

"They're here  _again_?" Hermione said quietly and clenched her jaw.

I squeezed her thigh and shifted from beneath her legs, "Sorry. I should have ordered them to stay away."

In the past two weeks, we'd fallen into an easy routine. During the day, I would go to work and she would enjoy the solitude. Most nights were spent together, alternating between her cottage and my house, kissing, touching, exploring, but never pushing the boundary that had been set.

But since the friend's discovery of where she was, most of our evenings were not spent entirely alone. They had been checking in on her, ensuring she was happy, ensuring they made her laugh, and ensuring there was no mention of Weasley. And I had been watching her become more and more agitated by their constant appearances. They meant well, of course they did, but they were once again beginning to drive her barmy.

And now that they were here again, she was far from pleased. And if I had read the look in her eyes correctly, I was none too pleased with them either.

She looked up at me, "I wanted to..."

Ignoring the continued knocking, I leaned down and kissed her, "I wanted to as well."

"Is it rude if we pretend we didn't see them?"

I brushed her hair behind her ear, "No. I'll happily ignore them."

She sighed, "Fuck," she whispered surprising me with her rare use of the word, "Let them in."

I strode across the room and yanked the door open, "Well, hello." I drawled, "What a  _pleasant_  surprise."

"We're not interrupting anything, are we?" Ginny asked with a sly grin.

"Actually you were," I said, plastering a fake smile on my face, "But it's been what? Almost twenty four hours since you've seen her, so please, come on in and check she's still breathing."

Potter cleared his throat, and I noted the look on his face as it dawned on him what they had just interrupted. "Ah, maybe we can come back tomorrow."

"No, no," I said stepping aside and ushering them in the door, "You don't want to waste all of that effort of apparating, so please, come in and ruin our  _entire_ evening."

They managed to look guilty as they filed past me, except for Blaise who was grinning and chuckling quietly as he punched my arm.

" _Big_  plans huh?"

"Fucker," I mumbled and made my way back to Hermione. She slipped her legs back over mine, and while she had a smile on her face, her eyes told me she was pissed.

"So, this isn't at all awkward," Blaise said and a nervous chuckle went around the room.

"We can leave," Potter said again and Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him – yep, she was definitely pissed.

"No, it's perfectly fine that you're all here," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Like Draco said, you're here now." She looked at them all, "Why  _are_ you all here?"

"Ah," Pansy began and looked around at the others, "We just..."

"We haven't seen you in months," Ginny said lamely and then smiled, "We're doing it again, aren't we? Smothering you?"

Hermione sighed and then smiled at her, a genuine smile and some of her anger dissipated. She nodded, "Yeah, you are. But it's fine. I kind of deserve the hovering, I think."

"No, actually you don't," Blaise said getting up and crossing to the kitchen, stopping to plant a kiss her on the top of the head on his way past, "But what you do deserve gorgeous, is a shot of the finest muggle scotch ever produced."

"I don't drink scotch," She told him over her shoulder.

"Tonight you do." He brought back six glasses, placing them on the table and a bottle from Lucius' collection appeared out of thin air.

"Blaise," I warned and he shook his head.

"Fine,  _I'll_  drink scotch, and in an hour this lot" He pointed to the other three intruders, "Can drag me away, leaving you two in peace to shag each other's brains out."

I groaned and covered my face. But beside me Hermione just laughed, "We'd already be shagging if you lot hadn't shown up."

A moment of shocked silence followed her revelation.

" _Shit_ , Granger," Blaise looked at her in awe and tilted his glass in her direction, "I might be slightly more sorry that we're here now."

* * *

 

Two hours later and they had finally departed. I had wanted them, quite frankly, to fuck off the second that they had arrived, but with the verbal sparring that had gone on between Hermione and Blaise, I'd had an enjoyable evening.

She had excused herself just after I'd seen them out the door, and disappeared up the stairs. I had frowned, watching after her, wondering if she simply needed some breathing space. She had managed to keep her temper in check at their surprise arrival, and had appeared to have enjoyed their company. But her unexplained exit had me baffled.

Now I was sitting on the couch, drumming my fingers on my thigh and wondering if I should head home and give her some space.

"Draco?" her voice floated down the stairs and I sat up.

"Hermione?" I tried to keep the concern out of my voice, "Is everything alright?"

"Um, yeah. They've definitely gone?" her voice wavered and I stood, preparing myself for another tearful meltdown.

I frowned, "Yeah. They've gone. Are you sure you're okay?"

There was silence.

And then there was Hermione, coming down the stairs, wearing nothing but her underwear.

I pressed my fist to my lips and murmured "Shit..."

She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back at me, her eyes not leaving mine, "You're staring," She said.

I remained rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. I took in the sight before me; her perfect tits hidden behind a deep red-coloured bra, the curve of her hips, the matching lace knickers, the long expanses of her legs. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers along the smooth planes of exposed skin, but for the first time in my life I was unsure.

She stepped closer, gently - almost timidly - placed her hand on my chest and smiled shyly at me, "I'm ready."

I didn't reply, couldn't reply. My voice was lost as every other sensation exploded inside me; my skin was buzzing in anticipation, my spine tingled and my cock grew rigid in my pants. I dropped my eyes to her chest, mesmerised by the swells of her breasts that were threatening to spill out of the lace that held them. I'd never been nervous with anyone before, but now that we were finally alone, and she was almost naked, I was frozen to the spot.

"Draco?" her hand slipped from my chest and I looked up at her, her eyes wide, embarrassed. "I thought you wanted..."

She took a step back and my brain finally kicked in. My hand shot out and I grabbed her arm, stepping closer, breathing her in and, cupping her face in my palms, looked in her eyes, "You surprised me. Give me a chance to catch up here."

She giggled, "Sorry. I wanted to...before...and when they  _finally_ left, I didn't want to lose my nerve."

I traced my finger across her collar bone, "You're a Gryffindor, courage is your motto, isn't it?"

She giggled again, and I grinned. For all the shit she had been through, was still so fucking sweet and adorable.

I looked at her eyes, they were dancing with delight and mischief, and suddenly my nerves disappeared and all the pent up frustration when it came to her evaporated and I simply wanted to this to be good for her. I studied her face, her high cheekbones, the endless depths of her eyes, the tiny freckles that were dotted across her nose, and finally my eyes dropped to her mouth.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and I was done for.

I kissed her several times, just slow presses to her full lips, wanting to be gentle and careful, and to let her know that I planned to take my time. She opened her mouth, pulling my bottom lip between her teeth drawing a tight growl from me.

Her palms pressed against my chest and I felt her fingers fumble with my shirt. I broke the kiss and looked down to where she was freeing my shirt buttons one by one. I looked up at her, my eyebrow raised in question.

She twisted her mouth into a shy smile, "If I'm almost naked, then you should be too."

"I have no objections to that." I told her and watched as she finished her task and then dragged my shirt over my shoulders. She tossed it across the room, and stood staring at me. I wanted to pull her against me, feel her skin against mine, but I didn't move.

Instead I let her look.

She had touched me in the days since our mutual declaration of wanting to be together, but only over my clothes. She'd still been nervous and had not yet touched my bare skin. But now, she reached out, her fingers moving slowly across my chest and moving downwards to the line of hair that started at my navel and trailed beneath the waist of my jeans.

She sucked in a breath and looked up at me, and I saw in her face the same realisation that had washed over me; this was big. This was us. This was Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger about to cross  _that_  line.

"Hi." I said quietly.

"Hi." She whispered.

I brushed her hair over her shoulder, "Nervous?"

She nodded, "A little."

"We can go as slow as you want. You're in charge here."

She nodded again and reached for my belt, unfastening it, and in probably one of the hottest things I could imagine, she bit her lip and dragged it slowly through each loop. She hesitated on the zipper, fingers fumbling, before I gently touched her wrist.

"Do you want me to help?"

She shook her head and took a steadying breath, and lowered the zipper and shoved my jeans down my legs. I kicked them away, toeing off my socks, and then stood staring at her as she reached behind her back, meeting my eyes, before unclasping her bra and sliding it from her arms.

My pulse quickened at the sight of her bare chest, her hardened nipples, her flawless skin, and my mind instantly pictured her beneath me, crying out my name as I covered her breast with my mouth, biting down on her nipple.

"Draco?" Her voice was barely a whisper, "Touch me, please."

I swallowed hard, and in yet another first for me, I hesitated. I was wrong. This wasn't  _big_ , it was  _monumental_.

The world around me vanished and all that was left was this tiny pocket that contained me and her. Her, in all her naked glory.  _The_  her I had wanted for what seemed like an age. I wanted to be gentle, wanted to be slow, to be careful with her, but every fibre of my being was telling me to drag her to the floor and show her how good it was to simply fuck. And fuck hard.

"Draco." She whispered again, her eyes locked on mine, a tiny, reassuring smile on her lips. She took my hand and lifted it to her breast, "Touch me."

I lifted her breast, squeezing her gently, and  _shit,_  she felt so soft and lush in my hand.

She brushed her nose against mine, and echoed my words, "Are you nervous?"

"I've never been more nervous in my life."

Her hands slid up my chest and she leaned her lips against mine, "I won't break."

Her words vibrated over my lips, and all my thoughts of being gentle became blurred. A flash of heat sped down my spine, and in a second I had stepped forward and shoved her against the wall.

I squeezed her harder and bent down to suck her nipple into my mouth, scraping my teeth over the hard peak. I felt her shudder, heard her exhale a quiet moan, and winced as she dug her fingers sharply into my shoulders to steady herself.

I closed my eyes and let the taste of her skin float across my tongue as I skimmed my hands down her sides, over the curve of her arse and back up again to the sides of her breasts. I pinched one nipple while I continued to suck and bite at the other. She let out a loud groan, and I glanced up at her; her head was thrown back against the wall, her eyes closed, and her mouth open. And fuck me, if she wasn't perfection.

I leaned in and kissed her throat, asking, "Can I touch you somewhere else?"

Her voice trembling, she whispered, "Yes."

I teased my fingertips along her hip bone, and I watched as she dropped her gaze, her eyes following my hand as I slid it over her knickers and between her thighs finding her lace underwear soaked.

" _Shit,_  Granger."

She gasped, squirming against my hand, and I looked at her. "Do you want this?" I asked, and she nodded. "Hermione, do you want this?"

"Yes," she whispered huskily, "I want this, I just…"

I paused, my finger pressing the lace of her knickers into her clit, "You just…?

Her cheeks were pink and she laughed, embarrassed, "I just like when you call me Granger."

I chuckled against her throat, dropping quick kisses along her jaw, and whispering "Granger" between each one. She jerked against my hand when I moved my fingers, brushing lightly across the tops of her thighs and back between them. "Do you like that,  _Granger_?"

"Yes," she said and gripped my shoulders, shivering under my touch and letting out a quiet moan. "I like..."

I leaned in, pressing her against the wall, "Tell me, Granger" I said softly against her ear, "Tell me what you like."

"I..." She hiccupped, and dug her fingers deeper into my shoulders, "I've...never been...like this."

I pulled back, just enough to see her eyes. There was something there. Fear? Not fear at what we were doing, but fear of...something.

"Draco, I haven't ever been touched-"

I covered her mouth with mine, silencing her, and tamping down the white-hot anger that spiked in my chest at the thought of that arse not taking his time with her, of not worshipping the very ground she walked on. Why anyone would rush with her, chase their own pleasure before witnessing hers, was unbelievable.

I smiled and kissed her neck, her shoulder, the place directly over her heart. Her fear was her inexperience and my determination to make this perfect for her doubled. I wanted to build her up slowly and watch as she exploded repeatedly; first around my fingers, and then against my mouth, and then around my cock.

I dropped to my knees in front of her, kissing my way down her stomach, across her hips and looping my fingers into the waistband of her underwear. I paused and looked up her. She was biting her lip nervously. I placed another kiss just below her navel and slowly slid the lace down her legs.

I took a deep breath and took her in. She was bare – well, almost. A small triangle of chestnut curls lead down to the seam of her sex. I touched her lightly, brushing my fingers through the soft hair. She sucked in a breath and I looked up at her, her teeth were biting her lip again, her eyes nervous as to just what my intentions might have been.

I stood - seeing in her eyes that she wasn't ready for my mouth just yet – kissing her and I snaked my hand between us, guiding my hand slowly across her hip, her stomach, and I groaned when I slid a finger through the crease of her pussy, finding her drenched. I gently ran my fingers around her clit, down to her entrance and back up again, loving feel of her smooth skin, circling around and around, drawing gasping breaths with each pass over her clit.

And  _holy hell_ , if she wasn't getting wetter.

I brushed my nose along her jaw, "Do you like me touching you here?"

" _Mmmm_." She hummed and her breath hitched as I carefully slid two fingers inside her.

"Do you like my fingers here?"

She murmured a breathy "Yes," and squeezed my fingers.

"Will you come on my fingers?"

Her breath hitched and she rocked her hips, as I moved my hand faster, harder into her. I circled my thumb around her clit and a tiny, whimpering sound escaped her.

"Are you close?"

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip and she wriggled against my hand. I pressed my fingers in deeper, moving faster, tightening the circles my thumb was making and swallowing her whimpers with my mouth.

She started to lose it, her body shuddering and her whimpers became desperate and I was sure that her fingerprints would be seared into my skin. She urged me on, gasping  _don't stop_ over and over.

I stared at her face, her eyes, her mouth, watching her every reaction and I began to rock against her hip, my pulse thumping along the length of my solid cock. The soft cotton of my boxer briefs was suddenly too constricting, I wanted to feel her bare skin against my cock.

As if sensing my need, her hand sneaked between us and gripped me through my boxers, whispering my name, the tiny sound filling my chest and I groaned against her shoulder.

Her thighs trembled and she cried out, her hips jerking as her orgasm gripped my fingers and a shudder ran through her entire body. She buried her face in my neck, her breath hot and sweet against my skin. I moved my fingers inside her once, twice and at her shiver I slowly pulled my hand away, sliding my fingers along her soaked seam, and resting my hand on her hip.

"Good?" I murmured into her hair.

I heard the click of her throat as she swallowed. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice husky, "Good."

I gently pulled her from the wall, wrapping my arms around her, and nuzzled her neck. I pressed my hand gently into the curve of her lower back, and then down to her arse.

She looked up at me, her face flushed and looking more beautiful than I could have imagined, and I had to have her.

"Do you want to go back up the stairs?"

She peered over my shoulder at the fireplace and I chuckled. I kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder, "It's like you read my mind."

I took two steps backwards, letting our arms stretch between us and allowing her to decide if this was what she really wanted. She smiled that smile I loved - the twist of her lips, the shy look as she dropped her eyes away – and then stepped towards me.

I threw some pillows from the couch onto the rug in front of the fireplace. "Lie down," I urged her softly and clenched my fist against my thigh as she lowered herself to the floor. She positioned herself on the soft rug, leaning back on the pillows, and I had to tamp down my smirk at her tightly locked together thighs.

"Let me see you." I said firmly, but she didn't move. "Granger,  _you_  came down the stairs in your underwear," I lifted my hand to my lips, flicking my tongue out to taste her orgasm on my fingers, " _You_ came all over my hand, so I can only assume that you intended for this to happen. Now, unless you want me to put my clothes back on and go home, leaving you  _very_  unsatisfied, you'll spread your legs and let me see you."

She was looking straight at me, indecision in her eyes. I was sure that she'd never been spoken to as such when it came to sex, but the quick rise and fall of her chest let me know that she wasn't averse to it.

I reached down for my shirt, plucking it from the floor - knowing full well there was no way in hell I would leave her naked like she was. But my ploy worked.

She leaned up on her elbows and slowly, very slowly, spread her thighs, revealing herself to me and giving me a view that almost stopped my heart. She was soft and pink and her glistening arousal filled my nostrils.

Deciding to leave my boxers on for the time being, least this be over in a minute and a half, I crawled over her, taking in the smooth expanses of her pale skin. I ran my hand gently over one breast, feeling her perfect rose-coloured nipple hard against my palm. I smiled down at her and lowered myself between her hips and pressed my lips to hers, a quiet kiss, slow and gentle, as opposed to the frantic mess of just minutes ago.

I pulled back and just looked at her. "Okay?"

She nodded and I moved to kiss the hollow at the base of her throat, running my tongue along her collar bone, until I closed my mouth around her nipple. I sucked and nipped and licked at her warm skin, loving the tiny gasps and moans echoing in my ears.

I kissed my way lower; down between her breasts, across her ribs to her navel. She bucked up against me and her hand gripped my hair, halting me. I looked up at her; her eyes were wide and questioning. I smiled and nodded, gently easing her fingers from my hair.

"I want to taste you," I murmured against her skin, "Is that okay?"

She nodded quickly, and I nipped at her hip. I stroked a finger through her and pressed down hard on her clit, looking up at her when she made a strangled cry, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip.

_Fuck, she's stunning,_ I thought, and slowly sank my finger into her. And then a deep moan reverberated from her chest when I added another finger and dropped my mouth to her pussy.

"Draco!" she gasped, her back arching and bowing of the floor.

I worked her slowly, closing my mouth over her and sucking hard, listening as she whimpered and sighed, sounds that had me clenching my stomach and telling myself not to explode there and then. Her fingers slid through my hair and she was rocking against my mouth. I glanced up at her, my mouth leaving her momentarily to kiss the curve of her hip.

"Fucking perfect," I whispered and she opened her eyes and looked down at me.

I lowered my mouth to her again, letting her watch as my tongue twisted and circled, sliding up one side of her swollen heat and back down the other. I pulled my fingers out of her, replacing them with my tongue, circling her entrance.

Her head thumped back to the floor, her hips arching into my mouth, and it felt like she would rip my hair from my head when I dipped my tongue inside her.

"Fuck," I murmured against her sweet flesh, "Fucking incredible."

She was hovering at the edge, her orgasm close, gasps of pleasure slipping from her lips and I increased the intensity, sucking harder and thrusting my fingers back inside her, pushing them deep. I curled my fingertips against her slick walls, and she cried out, contracting hard around me, her climax hitting her hard.

I moved up her body, not waiting for her to come down from her high, crashing my mouth to hers, and she moaned into my mouth as she tasted herself on my lips.

I stood quickly, shoving my boxers down my legs. She stared at me, her eyes not leaving mine, not even looking down to where my cock was standing to attention. And it took an almost Herculean effort to not to crawl over her and shove my cock inside her.

"You're staring," I said, echoing her words.

"You're perfect." She smiled and her eyes finally left mine, blazing a scorching trail across my chest, down my stomach, and finally landing on my rock hard cock. Her eyebrow arched and she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth.

I knew I was big, I'd been told on more than one occasion. But none of those times mattered anymore. The way she was looking at me made me feel like I ruled the world, and the remainder of the blood that was keeping my brain ticking over headed south, making me even harder.

"My eyes are up here," I said.

"I know," she murmured but her eyes remained where they were.

I chuckled and lowered myself between her hips, pressing my lips to hers in a quiet kiss. I positioned myself between her legs, the tip of my cock brushing against her wet flesh. But her hand on my chest stopped me.

"Draco, I need..." she was breathless, but she shoved hard at my chest.

Normally I was a control freak in bed, I liked to dominate, liked to be in charge. But this was different; I saw in her eyes what she needed and and rolled to my back, watching as she scrambled over me, her knees bracketing my hips. She gripped me in her hand, guiding me to her, and sank down slowly, taking in just the tip of my cock into her body, her eyes blinking rapidly.

She rose up, then back down again, taking more of me inside her and I couldn't stop the groan that rose in my chest and came out as a loud, guttural,  _guh._

I watched, fascinated, as she worked herself lower with each shift of her hips; rising up and back down, taking more and more of me into her until she finally sunk down one last time, taking me in to the hilt. I groaned; she felt fucking incredible and I felt unbelievably deep inside her **.** She braced her hands on my chest, and I watched, enthralled as her mouth formed an ' _O_ ' and her eyes closed. A soft, smooth sound left her lips; a sigh of pleasure, of relief.

A brief flicker of smugness swelled in my chest; the look on her face told me she wasn't used to something this big. But the feeling disappeared as soon as it came. And the realisation hit me. She'd only been with  _him_  since she left school. She'd only  _ever_  been with him. The look on her face wasn't only about the size of my dick, it was that she was experiencing something new, something different.

I gripped her hips, steadying her, letting her feel me fully inside her, stretching her. I didn't think about how tight she was, or how warm or how wet. For the first time in my life, I forgot about myself and wanted only for her to feel as much pleasure as I could give.

She exhaled and her eyes fluttered open and I smiled up at her.

"Alright?"

She nodded, "You feel..." she swallowed and closed her eyes again.

She rocked slowly, her hips pushing forward and then gently back, and I finally allowed myself to get lost in her tight, velvety heat. I reached down between us and found her clit, rubbing my thumb over it, making her breath stutter and her tongue flick out across her lip.

I couldn't take my eyes off her; she looked spectacular sitting atop me. And the look on her face let me know that the initial shock of my cock inside her had subsided. She tilted forward placing her palms on either side of my head, bending to kiss me, and I had to push every thought of bucking up into her out of my mind. She needed to control this; she needed to move at her own pace. But I needed to tell her.

"Granger, you feel so good."

She kissed me again and whispered, "So do you."

I grinned at her, unable to help myself, and squeezed her tits hard. She surprised me with a small sigh, clearly enjoying the feel of my hands on her. She kissed me again, her tongue forcing its way past my lips and taking control.

She rocked her hips again, just a tiny movement, as if experimenting at just how much she could take. I groaned at the slick slide and I gave myself to her, wanting her take complete control, and begging her take me at the same time. Shifting back, her hands once again planted on my chest and she began to move. I watched her face as something I couldn't quiet recognise at first flittered across it. It looked for all the world like she wanted to drive me to the edge in the same manner I had driven her, but wasn't quite sure how to.

She was all over the place; a staccato of thrusts and hip rolls, as if she was unsure exactly how to move on top of me. I gripped her hips, guiding her, helping her find a rhythm.

"Sorry." She whispered, "I don't know..." her breath stuttered and her fingers dug into my chest as the tip of my cock grazed that spot inside her.

"Never be sorry, just do what feels good." I told her and bucked up gently, letting her know that what she was doing was perfect.

She gasped as I hit the perfect spot again and her face changed. She gazed down at me, the darkened look she had given me on the couch hours ago had returned to her eyes. She looked ready to devour me, and I would gladly let her.

My hands dropped from her hips as she found her rhythm and began to ride me. I gripped her thighs, feeling the stretch and pull of her muscles as she moved harder and faster, chasing the pleasure she had so clearly been missing.

She paused for a split second and cried out, her inner muscles fluttering and growing tighter around me. She thrust down, riding me harder, her back arching and her eyes fluttering closed.

She let out a sharp gasp, loud and un-tethered, and a litany of curses came out as choked sounds. Her pussy gripped me tightly, and my own pleasure rolled down my spine. My balls grew tight and I willed myself to hold on, but it was an almost impossible task. She was hot and wet and so fucking tight, I could barely think straight.

She cried out again, a choking sob, and I pressed my thumb against her clit. She opened her eyes and stared wide-eyed down at me, before collapsing on me, crashing her mouth to mine and coming with a loud, shuddering groan.

I gripped her hips, planting my feet on the rug and fucked up into her, chasing my own climax. She cried out again, urging me on. Her chant of  _harder, faster,_ was a hurried whisper against my ear. Several more quick thrusts and my balls grew tighter, almost painfully so. My gut clenched and I snapped my hips up once more, groaning her name and spilling into her.

Her face was pressed against my neck, her breath was hot and heavy. My own chest was rising and falling in quick succession as I tried to catch my breath. I carded my fingers through her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

She murmured against my skin and I laughed.

I ran my hands over her back, her skin was warm and damp with sweat, "Yes, we did just do _that_." I said in response to her murmured question. "And it was fucking fantastic."

She lifted her head, her face was flushed and her eyes were glazed over, and she looked amazing. "Draco, that was..."

I pulled her back down so I could kiss her, "Indeed it was."

She placed her head back on my chest, and I surrounded her shoulders, hugging her tightly. I felt her relax against me, post-coital exhaustion hitting her quickly. My cock was still inside her, growing softer, but I didn't care. I wanted her near me, over me, sleeping on me.

She shifted and I gripped her tighter, "No, stay please."

She gave me a questioning look and I smiled up at her, "I like you on top of me."

She paused momentarily, and then finally realising I was serious, curled back over me, closing her eyes. I sighed, closing my own eyes and breathing her in. I began to drift, a content smile on my face.

* * *

 

Later, after we had dozed for little more than an hour, she was sitting crossed legged in front of me, wearing my shirt. We were now snacking on a plate of fruit and cheese that she had brought from the kitchen, after realising that we had skipped dinner.

Despite the heat of the fire, she had draped a blanket across my legs, and I had to stop my laugh. She'd been gloriously naked on top of me, but wasn't quite ready to naked  _with_ me.

I held a strawberry towards her, she bit half of it and I popped the rest into my own mouth.

"So," I said chewing thoughtfully, "I have something I need to ask you."

She coughed and made a choking sound, and when I looked up at her, her eyes were wide with shock.

I snorted a laugh. "Not  _that_ ," I told her, biting back the  _not yet_ that danced on the tip of my tongue. "Unless that's what you want?"

She rolled her eyes at my teasing, "Just ask me."

"What are your plans?" I asked, "After all this."

She looked puzzled, "After all this…meaning?"

"When you have to return to the real world, as it were."

"Well, actually…" she stood and walked to the kitchen counter, returning with papers in her hand. She held them towards me and sat back down. "I got those yesterday."

I flicked through what she had given me and I let out a low whistle, "Wow."

"I know, right?"

"You got everything?" She had handed me what were essentially divorce papers, property and asset division between she and Weasley, and clearly she had been the one who had brought more to their relationship.

"Pretty much," she said with a smile. "I sold my parents house to buy our house, and I don't mean to be spiteful, but my job paid more than his," she shrugged one shoulder and popped a grape into her mouth. She chewed slowly and then grinned at me, "And he's an arse, he doesn't deserve anything."

I looked at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to say  _just kidding_ , but it seemed that her ban of speaking ill of him had been lifted. Although, I held my tongue, not wanting to push my luck.

"So, you have no reason to go back any time soon then?"

She shook her head, "Not really, why?"

"Blaise, Pansy and I have been tossing around an idea for a while now," I took a breath, steadying my nerves. "We are in need of someone to head our Herbology department, and we want that someone to be you."

"Okay" She said slowly.

"You don't have to decide straight away," I said hurriedly, "You can think it over and let me know when you're ready. If you're ready."

"Why exactly is it that you want  _me_?" She asked.

"We want you to because you're the best in your field." I told her, "You know that."

The corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile, "No actually Neville is. You should get him if you want the best."

"He's already accepted a position at Hogwarts."

"Oh, so I'm your second choice then?"

"I think I just proved that you're _not_  my second choice." I reached over and pinched her toe, "And you never will be."

She sat staring at me, and something flickered in her eyes – surprise? - gone as quick as it came.

I sat up, "Granger, you are the most talented witch I know, you always have been, and we want you to head our Herbology Department. We trust no one else."

"No one?" she gave me a doubtful look, "What about Pansy? Or Blaise?"

I shook my head and smiled. "Pansy, as you well know, runs the Potion Department. After me, she's the best around. And Blaise, well, he's mostly there because of his stellar personality."

"And this job would entail..?"

"You would head the Herbology department, as I said. We have three Herbologists, growing as much as we can, but obviously we need other ingredients, so you would also be dealing with our suppliers and contacts."

I huffed out a breath. This was it. The second part of our plan. And it was the part that I knew she would take issue with.

"We've lost several suppliers in recent weeks, and a part of that – as I have been told – is because of my name." I took another deep breath, "And I need for the entire world to see that I am not my father. And I need your help to do that."

She sat up straight, curling her legs protectively against her chest. "My  _help_? Help with what?

"Well, um, the thing is, I want these deserters to know that you work with us. To prove that I am not the person that they think I am." My heart was racing, but Blaise was right. I had to be completely honest about what we wanted. "The company needs a new image, and that image is you."

She gaped at me. Her eyes wide, her body motionless.

"Granger?" I wasn't sure what her reaction would be, but her silence unnerved me.

But then she smirked at me. "So you  _don't_ actually want me at all for my skills, you just want a pretty face?" She leaned towards me and ran a finger down my chest.

"No. Your pretty face is just a bonus." I grabbed her finger and kissed the tip of it, "You are by far the best in your field, and that's why we want you with us. But," I paused and looked her directly in the eyes, "People love you, you have to know that. And, I won't lie, we also want you because of  _that_. You working for us will improve the image that we are apparently projecting."

"And what image is that?"

"People seem to think that we're still purists," I said honestly, "That we still believe in the old ways."

"And do you?"

I shook my head and kissed her fingers again, "No. And I'm certain you know that already."

She blushed and dropped her eyes again. The silence grew between us and I began to wonder if this had been a good idea. I'd been too quick, I should have waited longer, she clearly wasn't ready for any of this.

I leaned towards her and touched her knee lightly, "Granger, listen. I don't want you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. If you don't want to work with us, that's okay. But our greenhouses are hidden, you could spend every day in them, and no one would see you. Everyone will know that you work for us, but you can still hide, and Pansy, Blaise or I would be with you when you meet with any suppliers. You wouldn't have to do that on your own."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course." I smiled at her.

She nodded slowly and then pushed the plate aside, "And how should I fill my time while I'm thinking about it?"

I reached for the buttons on my shirt, tugging it off her and rolling her beneath me. "Maybe we could just fuck," I suggested and she laughed. I swallowed the sound and slid into her, immediately lost in the feel of her.

And in a rhythm as old as the rocky cliffs outside, a rhythm so carnal, so raw, so natural, we rocked together and she claimed me in every way possible.

 


	12. Chapter 12

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

Draco was curled behind me when I woke blinking into the brightness of the room. I had insisted that we not sleep on the floor downstairs, despite drifting off again after he had expertly played my body once more. Of course when I woke him to insist we actually sleep in my bed, he sleepily pulled me on top of him, turning me once more into a boneless puddle.

He had wrapped himself around me the second we hit the mattress and it seemed that he hadn't moved since. He was melded to me, every inch of his body touching mine. My head was pillowed on his bicep, his arm bent at the elbow and his fingers threaded through mine. His other arm was draped protectively over my hip, holding me tightly against him. And his cock - his fully erect, hard as steel cock - was pressed firmly into my rear.

He murmured something I couldn't quite make out, shifting behind me so his forehead pressed against the back of my head, and his warm breath sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't supposed to be like this; so intimate, so comfortable. So easy. Not with Draco Malfoy. But the way he was wrapped around me, made me not want to leave the bed ever again.

But unfortunately the realities of being a human surfaced and nature called.

Pushing back the warm covers, I slid carefully out from his grip. He stirred, mumbled and then rolled to his back. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked back over my shoulder and smiled; Draco Malfoy looking so content, it was a sight to behold. His face was calm, the frown lines that were a constant between his brows were gone, and a tiny smile tugged at his lips. His hair was a mess, and he looked stunning.

I tip-toed across the cool floorboards and into the bathroom, wincing the ache in my well-used muscles. I quickly used the toilet, wincing again as my legs protested under my weight. I was tender and sore between my thighs, my hips and lower back ached, and yet despite the aches, the stirring in my belly signalled that I was ready to have him all over again.

Looking longingly at the shower, I wanted to sooth my aches with a blast of overly hot water, but Draco was all over my skin, and I didn't want to lose the masculine aroma just yet. I turned to the mirror and sucked in a breath when I saw my reflection; face rumpled, hair everywhere, and tiny bruises along my shoulders and chest that would have me completely covering up for the next week. I looked as though someone had spent the night screwing me senseless.

Imagine that.

Grinning, I grabbed a washcloth and ran it across my face and then attempted to calm my hair, dragging my fingers through it, snagging on the knots, and then gave up. I pulled my unruly locks into a loose ponytail and reached for my robe that was hanging by the door. I secured it around my waist and headed back through the door.

Draco was still asleep, snoring lightly. I paused at the foot of the bed, watching him for several minutes. As much as I wanted curl back up against him, I needed some space. I had no regrets about what had happened I just needed to sort out the thousand or so thoughts that were running through my head.

I headed down the stairs and quietly made coffee – it was definitely in order - hoping the sounds of the brewing percolator wouldn't wake him just yet, watching as the dark liquid dripped in a stream into the waiting pot. I closed my eyes, smiling, almost giddy, and let my mind wander.

Sex with Draco Malfoy had been...well, I finally understood what  _mind-blowing_ meant.

My fantasy had come to life when he shoved me against the wall, when he asked what I wanted, what I liked. And when he first touched me?  _Hoooo-boy._

It wasn't just that he had touched me, but he had been gentle, had been slow, had waited until I was ready before doing only what my hands had ever done before. And his voice murmuring in my ear the entire time his fingers were inside me? Well, it was no wonder that I had come so quickly the first time.

I sucked the corner of my lip between my teeth as the image in my mind changed, and I saw myself over him, riding him, sliding along the thick length of his cock, his hands on my hips, guiding me, his face a picture of unrestrained awe. I felt the same pull between my thighs when I thought about how he had allowed me to be in control, had allowed me to take what I needed. But at the same time he had been demanding and I had seen in his eyes his struggle to hold back his need to dominate and be in charge.

And truthfully, I wondered what that would be like; to be completely at the mercy of someone like Draco Malfoy. A small rush of excitement swirled in my stomach at the thought, a thought that both thrilled and terrified me. But even with the dark, possessive look in his eyes, Draco Malfoy had been the one to show me real intimacy, real adoration, real...no. I wouldn't let myself say  _that_ word. But his face had told me more than I had allowed myself to believe possible.

His shallow breaths when he first saw me naked; his expression while he was inside me; his touch; his murmured words.

He wanted me, and wanted me in a way that I hadn't expected. It wasn't just the sex, it was me. The way he had held me, the way he had asked if I was okay, the way I had woken with him curled possessively around me, had all taken me by surprise, and I had to admit that the thought of being with him made my heart skip. And it was a feeling that I hadn't had in a long time.

The coffee pot buzzed, pulling me from my reverie, but not pulling the smile from my face.

I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug, the warmth seeping into my hands, which I hadn't realised had grown cold. I flicked my hand at the fireplace, the flames instantly bursting to life and I grabbed a random book from the shelf as I walked past, curling myself onto the large couch. I needed to be quiet, to still my mind, not over think and not plan ahead.  _Just go with it_ was the mantra that slipped into my head.

_Just go with it._

I smiled and sank deeper into the soft cushions, opening the book and losing myself in it.

* * *

 

I had been lounging on the sofa for about half an hour when Draco appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his face panicked, his breaths short.

"Good morning," I smiled at him.

"Shit, Granger," He huffed, "I thought you'd left."

"Um, this is my place, where would I go?" I frowned at him, "Besides, why would I leave?"

He shrugged, "Morning after regrets."

"No," I laughed, "No regrets."

He smiled and let out a breath, "Good."

My eyes raked down his body and I bit my lip. "You're very naked."

He looked down at himself, "So I am." He crossed over to me and gently prised the book I was reading from my hands. I watched as he carefully closed it and placed it on the coffee table beside the sofa. He laughed at my expression, "I don't have a death wish. I know how much you love books."

I reached up and pulled him towards me and kissed him. His hands rested on the back of the sofa either side of my head and he opened his mouth so I could slide my tongue against his.

"Good morning," He said when he pulled back, "Do you need more tea?"

"I made coffee."

"You don't drink coffee."

"I do today."

He smirked and made his way over to the kitchen, giving me the perfect view of his naked arse. I shifted in my place, leaning my back against the armrest, curling my knees to my chest and I watched him closely as he made fresh coffee, his eyes flicking occasionally to mine. He was lean and well defined, and he was clearly comfortable with his own nakedness.

"You're staring," He said.

"You're perfect." I replied and he laughed.

He filled his mug and made his way back over to me. He sat beside me, "So..."

"So..."

He looked back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the window. "Looks like rain."

I chuckled, "Maybe."

"Whatever will we do today?"

I shrugged a shoulder, "I was quite content reading." I leaned over to retrieve my book and he grabbed my arm, stopping me.

"I can think of several other things that would be more...satisfying...than reading.

I smiled at him and then glanced at the door, "With  _our_ friends, I'm not sure that's wise."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He rubbed his hand across his jaw, "You're okay though?"

"I am," I nodded, " _Really_  okay."

I met his eyes and we both grinned.

He sipped his coffee and then handed me his mug. I took a sip and peered at him across the top of the mug as he scratched his belly absently, and I remembered he was totally naked. My eyes flicked down to his lap, his flaccid cock was resting on his thigh and it was magnificent. It was a wonder I could even walk.

" _Geez_ , Granger. Do I have to tell you again that my eyes are up here," He said breaking into my lusting thoughts.

"Cover up," I told him looking back up at him, "I can't talk to you when you're naked."

He looked down at himself and then back at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Smug much?"

"Sex siren much." He countered and pulled a cushion over his lap.

I felt my cheeks heat up. I actually wasn't sure what had come over me the previous night. I had never been so vocal, so wanton. I had always wanted to be, but had resigned myself to quiet, missionary sex and to only pleasing Ron. And then taking matters into my own hands - literally - when he'd fallen asleep straight after.

Last night had been some kind of awakening. I had discovered someone who didn't care if I needed to take charge; who didn't care if I took only what I needed; who didn't care that I simply wanted to be on top.

Suddenly all the sex conversations I'd been subjected to with Pansy and Ginny made sense. I'd never joined in with them, their discussions were something that I had never understood - never having been afforded anything more than ten minute sessions of mediocre sex once or twice a week. But Draco had proved them right. There  _was_  more to sex than just hard thrusting and loud groans and quick climaxes.

I wasn't so naive that I didn't realise that there was more, but rather stupidly I thought he would get better over time, that those first few times were something new and uncharted. But after a year and half, I realised that I was wrong. That nothing was going to change. But I also didn't believe that bad sex should end a relationship with someone that you were in love with, and you thought loved you back.

"I'm not usually like that." I said quietly.

"It wasn't an insult."

I looked up at him, not sure if he was playing with me. But the look in his eyes told me he wasn't.

"Granger, you were amazing." The hand touching my foot squeezed gently, "I wasn't prepared for you to be like that. I pictured you being quiet and little more reserved, maybe even a little prudish. But I have to say, I was pretty pleased that you weren't."

"I usually am," I murmured and lowered my eyes.

"Hermione?"

I shook my head and looked back up at him, "Sorry. Shouldn't have gone there."

He moved closer and took my hand, "Gone where?"

I ran the hand he wasn't holding across my forehead, "It doesn't matter."

But he wasn't having any of it. "If I did something-"

"No," I interrupted him, "No. It wasn't you. You were...I didn't know sex could be like that."

His eyes went wide and a smile crept across his face, but I held my hand up. "Draco, don't. I know last night I said he was an arse, but please, don't."

His smile dropped instantly, "Sorry. But I meant what I said. You were amazing. And I don't understand why you would think sex would be anything  _but_  amazing with you."

I took a deep breath. "Draco, there's probably some things we should discus before we go too much further with this." He nodded, but remained silent. "Ron cheated on me. And part of the reason he cheated was because of me."

"Hermione," he said cautiously, "I don't think that's true. Any guy would jump at the chance to be with you, he was crazy to cheat."

I shook my head and held his gaze with mine, "I don't want to get married, nor have a family, not yet anyway. I'm only twenty-five. I'm not ready for any of that."

His face twitched, but he managed to hold his surprise at my candidness in check. "You think  _that's_ that why he cheated?"

I shrugged. "For the whole last year we were together all we did was argue. He said he wanted children, wanted a big family, and I understood that, but I think he wanted us to get married as soon as we finished school and start a family right away. But I wanted to wait. I wanted to work and have a career, I wanted that for him too,  _and then_  when we were both ready, we could start a family, I didn't want to do it the opposite way around. It had always been a sore point with us."

Draco frowned, "So why did you stay together? Clearly you wanted different things."

"I don't really know," I admitted, "I think because of how we got together, we didn't realise that we weren't  _really_ suited. But I loved him and I thought he would wait." I paused, "I guess I couldn't have been more wrong."

He squeezed my hand and then grinned, asking me in his most innocent voice, "But that still doesn't explain why you think sex couldn't be amazing?"

I rolled my eyes, "You just want me to say he was rubbish in bed, don't you?"

"Am  _I_  an arse if I say yes?"

I looked at him for several long seconds, wondering just how much I should tell him, and decided that I was this far down the rabbit hole, I might as well drop to the bottom. "He was...um...not very adventurous."

Draco smirked, "Okay. That was very polite of you." He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. He paused and looked thoughtfully at me before asking me cautiously, "If he wasn't very adventurous, why did he, um..?"

"Fuck that girl on his desk?"

"Yeah," He nodded and let out a small laugh, "After seeing you come down the stairs like you did last night, I don't get why he wouldn't want to do that with you."

"Truthfully, I don't know. I mean, I _asked_ him to do stuff like that with me – have sex with me in his office, or on the couch or in the shower - but he would just get embarrassed and mumble that he wasn't  _into all that_."

"Idiot," he mumbled under his breath, and then looked guiltily at me. "Sorry, but he is."

I tilted my head and took him in. Draco Malfoy, the boy who had lived to torment me at school. Draco Malfoy, the man who had shown me more in one night than Ron had shown me in six years. I smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Draco, last night? That was the first time I had ever had...um...with me on top," His eyes went wide and I nodded, and then the words just seemed to fall out of my mouth, "He never put his mouth on me like you did, not once, he barely even put his hands between my legs. He was never spontaneous, and never did – or wanted - anything more than missionary in a bed."

" _Shit,"_  he cursed quietly, "Hermione. I wish I would have known. I wouldn't have been so demanding with you."

I shook my head, "No, it was perfect. I loved how you were with me."

He cupped my jaw and ran his thumb across my cheek, "No. I should have taken my time, and been more careful, like I promised you I would. And I shouldn't have spoken to you like I did."

"If you would have taken any more time, we'd still be down there." I said pointing to the rug in front of the fire, "And after six years of being  _treated_ to five minutes of foreplay and ten minutes of sex, I liked you being demanding."

"Ten minutes? You're not serious?" He looked too stunned to rail on my former boyfriend's lack of sexual prowess.

"I am." I said with a shrug.

He pressed his fingers to his eyes and shook his head, "I'm-"

"Stop apologising," I said a little more harshly than I intended, "I  _want_  more in the bedroom."

He looked at me for a few beats, realising that I was serious, and then his smirk returned, "Well, if it's more you want..."His hand slid along my thigh pushing the bathrobe higher. He leaned over and the pillow slipped from his lap. My eyes betrayed me and looked down, he was half hard, and all we'd been doing was talking.

He was grinning at me when I finally looked up, "You don't believe that I'm not sitting here thinking about you naked under that robe, do you?"

"How do you know I'm naked?"

He crawled over me, his knees bracketing my hips, his cock growing longer and harder and pressing against my stomach. He tugged at the tie on my robe, smiling down at me as the cloth slipped away revealing my nakedness beneath.

He tipped his head in a quick nod and winked, "See. Naked."

I rolled my eyes and replied sarcastically, "Wow, you're a genius."

He laughed and smoothed his fingers from my collarbone to my navel. "Listen to me." He said, "You are smart and beautiful, and not wanting to be married, or start a family, was no reason for him to cheat. What he did wasn't – isn't – your fault. And just so you know, I'm not ready for any of that either - marriage, family - and since I'm almost a whole year younger than you, it might be a while before I am. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah," I said nodding and then frowned, "I'm not a year older than you."

"That's what you got out of all of that?" He laughed.

"Sorry," I said with a grimace, "But really? A year?"

"I said  _almost a year older._ And I mean it. I'm not ready for any of that." He leaned down and kissed me, "So that makes us perfect for each other."

"I suspected." I said and then whimpered as he moved his hand lower and found me wet – he'd not been the only one to be thinking naked thoughts. His mouth dropped to my throat and his fingers began moving in a way that I wasn't sure I would ever get used to.

He kissed me, and a small flicker of fear hit me. I put my hand on his chest, stopping him. "Draco?" I whispered, "You can't be with anyone else."

"I know." He said.

"Promise me," I begged. The suddenness of how serious this had become was overwhelming in its intensity and i had to hear the words from him, "Promise me there'll be no one else."

His face broke out into a huge smile and he gripped my hips, pulling me roughly towards him. I yelped; my back sliding from the armrest and landing on the soft cushions of the couch. He loomed over me, bracing his hands either side of my head, "I promise that there will be no one else. I promise you that I don't want to be with anyone else. I promise you that you now own me."

I reached between us and surrounded his cock with my hand, "I own you, huh? All of you?"

He nodded and peered down to look at my hand, "All of me."

"Hmm, well then…" I rubbed the tip of his cock across my clit before dragging him lower and pressing him against me.

He looked up at me; all of the colour had drained from his face. It wasn't the expression I was expecting.

"Draco?"

"Hermione, shit!" his eyes were wide with shock, "I came inside you."

I nodded slowly, "Yeah, you did. A few times if memory serves."

"I didn't use a condom." He pressed his fist to his mouth and swallowed, "Fuck! I'm so stupid. I've never forgotten in my life! I'm so sorry-"

"Stop." I told him, "Do you really think I would have let that happen if I didn't have it covered?"

He frowned down at me, and I sighed patiently.

"I'm on the pill." I said and almost laughed at his confused expression. "Muggle medicine that stops accidents happening."

"You take a pill and you don't get pregnant?"

I tilted my head and shrugged, "In a nutshell, yeah."

"But how-"

I pressed my fingers to his lips, "It works, leave it at that. Now," I reached between us again, "I think you were going to put this to good use."

He pursed his lips and grabbed my wrist, shooting me a sceptical look. "I don't see how a simple pill can do that."

I arched an eyebrow at him, "Don't you make a potion that does the same thing?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. I smirked at him. Of course he made a contraceptive potion. He'd be insane not to.

"You're too fucking smart for your own good, Granger." His voice was deep and the dark stare that had bored into me in when he had loomed over me the previous night had returned making my stomach flip. He leaned down, brushed his lips against mine, and pinched my nipple "Maybe I should punish you."

My eyes went wide. "I, uh..."

His voice softened, "Maybe we could work up to that."

I swallowed, staring up at him. My experience was limited - I thought sex in a shower was out there - but what he was possibly suggesting was way beyond anything I had even dared to imagine.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, slipping his hand back between my legs, his fingers dancing over me, and all I could do was whimper and wonder not for the first time in the last twelve or so hours, how it was that I had lived without his hands. He pulled his hand away from me and I whined, "Hermione. Do you trust me?"

His eyes were boring into me as he waited for me to respond.

"Yes," I told him, "Yes. I trust you."

"I'm not into whips and chains," He said and chuckled at my sigh of relief, "I would never hurt you, or do anything you don't want, but," I shuddered as his hand landed a light slap to my clit making me groan, "I like to play rough."

I stared at him for a few beats and then smiled, "How rough?" I asked and tugged on his cock, squeezing hard.

He looked startled for a few seconds and then laughed, "You're too much, Granger." He kissed me again, his lips pressed against mine and pulled away, over and over, rough and urgent before his tongue forced its way through my lips.

I rocked against him, feeling the head of his cock slide through my soaked core. I spread my thighs wider and grunted, "Inside Draco...now!"

He shot me a cocky grin and wrenched my hand away, replacing it with his own. He rubbed the head of his cock in circles over my clit, "Is this what you want?"

I growled in frustration and dug my fingers into his hips, "Yes."

He pressed the head of his heavy length against my entrance, "Are you sure?"

"Draco!" I hissed and then groaned when he pushed into me. He held still when he was buried to the hilt, a fire growing within the grey depths of his eyes as he stared down at me. His pulse was hammering in his throat and the cocky grin had yet to leave his face.

I needed him to move, the ache of having him completely still between my thighs was almost unbearable. I rolled my hips, but he dropped his full weight over me and held me in place. I choked out a sobbing sound and gripped his hips harder. "Draco, _please_."

"You're perfect," He said and I swallowed. "You always have been."

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and he kissed it away. I didn't think it would feel this good, or this easy. He talked to me like we were old friends; made love to me like we'd been doing it for years; and now he was telling me I was perfect. It was too much. One night together and I was already shattering from the inside.

My eyes fluttered closed. I couldn't look at him for fear I would admit feelings that I wasn't yet able to understand. I was shocked that I felt this way about him; it was something I had never expected to feel, not about him in any case. And not so soon after the end of what I thought was my forever.

His mouth dropped to my neck, sucking at my skin and kissing along my shoulder. He moved his hips; a slow slide out of me that was almost painful in its intensity, and then back in again. "Can you feel that?" He whispered, "Can you feel what you do to me?"

_What I did to him?_   _Was he serious?_  He was currently turning my brain to mush, and he wanted to know if I knew what I was doing to him?

"I'm not doing anything," I managed to say and he pressed his mouth over my heart.

"Yes you are," He murmured, slowly rolling his hips in a manner that was close to torture, "You've wrecked me. You've made it impossible for me to want anyone else. I want you, and only you."

I gasped as he hit a sensitive spot deep inside me, "You have me."

He buried his face in my neck, his entire weight pressing down on me, and reached back to pull my thighs higher along his ribs and rocked his hips into me.

For a fleeting moment, my heart stuttered. The thought of someone catching us fucking on the couch crossed my mind, and I instantly wanted to tell him to stop, that we shouldn't do this here, that we should be in the bedroom, with the door closed. But that was just Ron in my mind. In the part of my mind that he had managed to brainwash into believing that sex outside the bedroom was wrong.

I wrapped my arms around Draco's shoulders, clinging to him, and realised that if our friends did happen to arrive unannounced, I didn't care. It wouldn't bother me if someone saw this, if someone saw how he was over me, how he was losing himself in me, how I was already lost in him.

The thought should have terrified me.

But it didn't.

It just made me smile.

* * *

 

"So, is this another first for you?"

We were in the shower and I had my back to him. I knew it was ridiculous considering what we had already done, but I felt the blush rise all the way from my chest to my cheeks. I looked over my shoulder at him, "Why do you ask?"

He tilted his head to the side and widened his eyes, "Because you're standing over there, and the water is over here." He pointed above his head.

"It's that obvious, huh?"

"You're beautiful, don't hide from me." He said and reached over, turning me to face him and pulling me towards him. I placed my hand on his chest, wincing at the sudden movement. "Don't worry, I don't plan on fucking you in here," His hand slipped gently between my legs and I winced again, sucking in a harsh breath, "Not yet anyway, you're far too sore."

"Good," I said and let out a slightly shaky breath as he moved his hand away.

"Good?" He asked, pushing my now wet hair back over my shoulders.

"Yeah, good," I said stopping his hands from moving the wash cloth down my body. Sore was an understatement. Three times last night and twice this morning had me feeling like I had been pummelled by a jack-hammer. "My vagina can't take another pounding right now."

His eyes widened for a beat, " _Ah,_  okay then." He said and handed me the wash cloth, shaking his head and laughing.

I grimaced. I was sure that his head was spinning from the stark contrast of me being embarrassed to be naked in the shower with him to the verbal diarrhoea that seemed to spew from me at any given moment.

Taking a breath, I told myself that his hands and mouth had touched every inch of me, that I had been naked on top of him, that he had been inside me. Being naked in a shower was pretty mild compared to all of that.

I slowly relaxed, and with Draco chatting so casually with me, I decided that this was something else that I knew I would need to do every day with him. It felt comfortable to be completely naked with him in the small space. It was comforting to feel his arm or leg bump against me as we shampooed and washed.

"So I was thinking," I said as I ducked my head under the water to rinse my hair, "Your job offer..."

"Hmm," he hummed, "What about it?"

"Were you serious, or were you just trying to get into my pants?"

"Both," he said with a shrug, "I  _was_ successful in the latter."

"How would you feel if you were successful in the former?"

"Are you saying yes?"

I smiled.

It had come as a surprise to many that I had chosen the path that I had. Everyone had expected me to go into The Ministry in a political role, that one day I might even be The Minister of Magic, but that had never held any interest to me. I had actually enjoyed Professor Sprout's classes at Hogwarts, and I had enjoyed studying with Neville when no one else would. And in studying with him, I had discovered his enthusiasm for all things nature, and that enthusiasm had rubbed off on me.

But as much as I had benefited from the settlement, I still needed a job. And I needed a job where I no longer dreaded running into Ronald Weasley. A job where I could be hidden away and not be the subject of stares, and gossip, and pitying looks. I needed a job where I could do what I loved. And Draco, Blaise and Pansy had offered me that.

I had worked closely with Pansy and Blaise while I had been at The Ministry and I almost knew the entire way that they ran their company, so the shift wouldn't be such a massive change. But during my time at The Ministry, I had been working with Neville as a part of a large team. Now I would be running an entire department on my own.

It was my dream job.

"I'm saying yes."

He stood blinking at me.

"Draco?"

"You're saying yes?" He looked dumbfounded, "Yes to working with us?"

"Yes."

His face broke into a wide grin, he grabbed my face and closed his mouth over mine in a bruising kiss. My nipples hardened instantly, almost painfully, and I wondered how much it would hurt if he took me gently.

But the thought disappeared as instantly as it came.

"Are you two finished shagging yet?" Ginny's voice yelled as she thumped her fist against the bathroom door. "We brought lunch."

I groaned and looked longingly at his erect cock.

"It might be good that they're here," Draco grabbed my rear and hauled me tight against him, letting me feel his erection against my belly, "Your vagina will think so anyway."

I snorted and wrapped my hand around his cock, "It seems a shame to waste this." I moved to drop to my knees, but he grabbed my shoulders, stopping me.

"No," he said firmly, his eyes blazing, "The first time you do that to me will not be a quickie in the shower while our friends are waiting down stairs. You will take your time, and," He traced my lips with his finger, "You will be a good girl while I fuck your mouth."

The look in his eyes set my heart racing. I shot him a sly grin and I closed my lips around his nipple, biting down gently. He sucked in a harsh breath and I stepped back.

"That's too bad," I told him, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around me, "Because I was thinking that you might have liked a little pain with your pleasure."

I winked at him over my shoulder, and his mouth dropped open as I walked out of the room.

 


	13. Chapter 13

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

The light was streaming in through the large glass atrium, bouncing off the pristine marble as I stepped out of the floo and into the reception area of our near-new offices.

A large reception desk was set directly in front of the elevators, which was manned constantly and aided in disallowing any unwanted visitors though to the main offices. And it was the only furniture in the foyer. When we had decided to set up the company, this was exactly what I had pictured. I hated clutter, and refused anything but sparse simplicity.

And the entire building reflected that. Pansy had even grouched about how clean the potions lab was, and that she shouldn't be subjected to such ridiculous conditions. Potions were messy, she had told me, but I had insisted that she keep it in such a manner.

The building had two stories above the ground floor and one below. My office and Blaise's was on the top floor, along with a large conference room and two more offices; Pansy used one when she wasn't elbow deep in the cauldrons, and the other that would now be Hermione's

The second floor held the main Potions lab and two smaller ones, and, at Pansy's insistence, the staff break-room. She had explained to me – in that maddeningly condescending way that she had - that it was not appropriate that I expected our team to eat at their desks, or in the lab or in the greenhouses.

But the floor below was the one that was on my mind. It led out into the gardens and the greenhouses, where Hermione would no doubt spend most of her time. And where, I was sure, that I would be spending a significant more amount of time.

I schooled my features as I approached the desk. It wouldn't do well to look like a love-sick school boy on her first day. And considering the list of rules and conditions that Hermione had given me over the last week, I wondered just who was in charge. No looking at her with puppy dog eyes. No touching her. No hovering. No lunchtime meetings behind closed doors. No special treatment. And absolutely no one was to know that we were together. And if anyone found that out before she was ready to tell the world, the only action my dick would see was from my own hands.

I'd had to bite back my smile, her threat had been adorable, yet at the same time utterly terrifying.

"Good morning Mr. Malfoy." Alexis said with a bright smile.

"Good morning Ms. Barrow." I smiled, confused. Our front receptionist was as ruthless and efficient as my own PA. She rarely greeted anyone with more than a curt nod. And no one, and I mean no one, would get past her if they didn't have a prior appointment or meeting scheduled. My own mother had been stopped at the desk and not allowed any further, much to my own amusement and to her disgust.

So her bright smile and calm demeanour was slightly off-putting.

I rode the elevator to the top floor and headed straight for Hermione's office. She had insisted that she arrive at work on her own, she didn't need an escort, and she had said, she wasn't walking in with me and raising any suspicions. But my promise of abiding by her rules, of just being her boss, broke the second I stepped through the door and I had to see her. She left me just hours ago, telling me that she would meet me in the office, but she wasn't there. I frowned. I couldn't imagine Hermione Granger being late for anything, let alone her first day at her new jo _b._

I strode along the hallway to my own office, and was greeted by a beaming Erica. I frowned again, that was most unusual. She usually met me with a list of tasks for the day.

"Good morning, Draco." She said with a bursting smile.

Erica was always pleasant, but not once in the year she had worked for me had she ever greeted me with such blinding elation.  _What the hell was happening?_

"Ah, good morning." I replied and continued towards my office, "Can you please let me know when Ms. Granger arrives?"

"She's already here," Erica informed me, her smile widening even further, "She has been for over an hour."

I stopped in my tracks.  _What?_

"She's down in the greenhouses. And going by the smiles, I think the team are already in love with her."

I kept my face straight. Of course they were. Who wouldn't be?

"You've been down there then?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice even.

She nodded, "Yes, Hermione stopped in here first to say  _hello,_ and then headed straight down to the greenhouses, I escorted her down to ensure she knows where everything is."

_Hermione?_ Obviously she had already won over my assistant.

I nodded my thanks and headed into my office, resisting the urge to run directly to her. I dropped my leather satchel onto the floor beside my desk and sat, closing my eyes and breathing deeply.

_Don't rush down there,_ I told myself, _don't rush down there and look like a complete fool. Distract yourself with work._

I opened my eyes. There were at least a dozen new rolls of parchment in the tray on my desk that would be sure to take my mind off her, so I reached over and plucked the top one from the pile. And  _fuck me, it was a reminder from Theadora Trentino,_ insisting that she meet with my new Head of Herbology as soon as possible, and that I be the one to make the introductions. And Trentino's was definitely a supplier that I didn't want to lose.

Theadora was the most prominent Herbalist in the Wizarding world. Her family name had been synonymous with plants and herbs for centuries. And being as such, she had little patience for time wasters and inefficiency, and anyone she had dealings with had to be pre-approved.

Pansy and Blaise had laughed of my initial concerns of setting up a company that included my family name. Malfoy went hand in hand with Death Eater, even though I had publically renounced any dealings with them and my father. And despite The Ministry clearing me, I was still subjected to whispers and pointed fingers.

And it was through those whispers that Theadora had come into contact with us.

We were a young and up and coming company. Doing things differently, not complying with the traditions of the past, doing exactly what Severus had taught us; to push boundaries and find new ways to do things. And with the exceptions of Erica and Alexis, no one was over thirty. We were all young and enthusiastic, and while potion making was a fine art, we had made developments into just how far we could push the process, were progressing steadily into new and improved potions. And that was how Theadora had come into contact with us.

She had gotten wind of what we were up to, and even though she was a traditionalist and hated change, she had actually approached us. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and after spending three days in Florence, at her beck and call, during which time she had been very thorough in her interrogation of the three of us, our extensive knowledge of potion making finally convinced her to come on board.

But just because Theadora had approached us, didn't mean she wouldn't abandon us at any minute.

I groaned in frustration and shoved the parchment aside, and began to sort through the rest, my attention finally elsewhere.

An hour later my office door opened and Erica walked in. She held her arm out and dropped another roll of parchment on my desk and peered at me over her glasses.

"Theadora is the most impatient woman I've ever had the pleasure of dealing with," She said with an eye roll, "I've made arrangements for you and Hermione to meet with her in Florence tomorrow," She handed me a large brass ring, "I've charmed the portkey and you will be able to leave first thing in the morning. You can meet with Theadora and be back tomorrow evening."

_Damn it!_ I wanted to stay overnight. Maybe show Granger some of the sights of Florence, show her the amazing view from my usual room.

I cleared my throat and I felt my cheeks heat slightly, "Can you arrange for us to return on Wednesday evening?"

Erica raised one thin eyebrow at me, her lips twitching, but she didn't ask why. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'll change the portkey right away."

I nodded, handing back the brass ring and gave her what I hoped was a wry smile, explaining lamely, "Well, I was just thinking that Theadora might want us there longer than expected. You know how she is."

" _Mm-hmm,"_ She hummed and gave me a look that told me she knew exactly what I was up to, "Hermione has asked if you were in yet."

"I'll head down and see how she's settling in." I said standing, "I didn't want to crowd her on her first day."

She handed me my updated schedule, "Don't be too long, you have an eleven o'clock floo meeting with Medina Agrobiology, and you have a three-thirty with Blaise in the conference room to meet with Mr. Orozco from  _Oro Hierba_." She indicated the parchment she had just dropped on my desk. "I'll inform Theadora that you'll both be there first thing."

I nodded, "And I'll inform Ms. Granger of her sooner than expected travel plans."

"I'll make the necessary arrangements for your stay. The usual place? And your usual room?" She shot me another knowing smile and my cheeks flushed again.

"Yes, my usual room, thank you." I answered quickly.

She paused at the door. "You've made the right choice with her, young man."

I looked up to see her smiling at me before she disappeared through the door.

I rubbed my fingers across my forehead and smiled; she clearly knew more than I thought.

* * *

 

I paused in the greenhouse doorway, the sight before me stopping me in my tracks. I'd not seen her before she left for work and it was probably a good thing. We would never have made it out of the house.

She was dressed impeccably in fitted black suit pants that accentuated her long legs and the curve of her arse, her suit jacket was casually flung onto the bench beside her, and her pristine white dress shirt was molded to her figure. I wasn't sure that a white shirt was appropriate for the greenhouse, butif it got dirty, or wet and see through, who was I to complain?

And it helped that she was bent over the long workbench, chatting animatedly with another of our herbologists Olsen Blackwell, her arse jutting out and giving me a view that had my cock twitching.

I cleared my throat and they both turned to face me.

"Malfoy," she said straightening her stance, "I wasn't sure if I would be seeing you today."

Olsen nodded, and murmured a quiet  _sir._

"I didn't want to crowd you on your first day Granger," I repeated the same lame excuse I had given Erica, "And I'm fairly certain that you know what you're doing."

She tiled her head to one side, " _Fairly_ certain? _"_ Olsen sniggered beside her and I shot him a glare.

" _Completely_ certain _,"_ I corrected returning my gaze to her, "And I have had my own work to do."

"Of course," She said and scooped up her discarded jacket, "Did you need to see me?"

I held my hand out, indicating towards the elevator, "Yes, if you have a minute."

She smiled at Olsen telling him,  _we'll continue this shortly,_ and walked past me, my eyes instantly dropped to her rear. When I looked up she was smirking over her shoulder at me.

"See something you like, Malfoy?"

I didn't have time to be embarrassed at getting caught; I was too surprised at her response. I thought she would have snapped at me or at the very least given me a disgusted eye roll or one of her infamous glares, but instead she was being flirty.

"Ah, sorry." I mumbled, not sure what to make of her tone.

"Maybe I should wear my robes," She said with a wink, "Stop any temptation."

I ducked my head to hide the heat gathering quickly in my cheeks. She had managed, in just a few seconds, to confuse the hell out of me. She had warned me not to look at her in a way that might suggest that we were anything more than boss and employee, but now she was smiling at me and winking and making me feel like I had hired someone else entirely.

We rode the elevator up to her office, simply staring at each other in silence, and I wondered if the look in her eyes said that she was thinking the same thing I was; elevator sex. I dropped my gaze and let out a slow breath, and hearing her chuckle I knew that I was right. She was definitely thinking the same as I was.

She sat behind her desk, leaning back and casually crossing one leg over the other, making me feel like I should ask permission to sit. And as if sensing my thoughts, she held her hand out towards the chair opposite her desk. I chuckled and sat down, leaning my elbows on the armrests and steepling my fingers. We sat staring at each other, identical smirks on our faces. We'd been naked together just a few hours ago, and now we had to remain professional, it was going to be a whole lot more difficult than I thought.

"It looks like you've settled in then?" I said breaking the silence.

"How could I not?" She nodded eagerly, "The entire place is great Draco. You've made amazing progress."

The compliment warmed my chest. "Thank you. As you know we've worked hard to get here."

"You should be proud," she said, and another quiet moment stretched between us. "You said needed to talk to me?"

"Ah," I took a breath. She knew that travel would be a part of her job, but I wasn't sure that she would be prepared to travel so soon. "One of my contacts is insisting that you meet with her. As soon as possible."

She smiled brightly, "Perfect. When did she want to meet?"

"Tomorrow morning," I said before adding, "In Florence."

Her eyes went wide, "Florence? Italy? Really?"

"I know it's sooner than you probably thought, but Theadora is...well, she's interesting. And she likes to know exactly who she's dealing with."

"Theadora? As in  _Theadora Trentino?"_ she looked impressed, and she should have been.

"Yes," I said with a hint of a smile. I knew that Hermione would be impressed that we dealt with  _Trentino's,_ and directly with Theadora herself. "She was kind enough to give us a chance when we started out. But like I said, she's interesting, and will want to interrogate you meticulously."

Her pulse was thumping in her neck and I could see that she was almost jumping out of her skin, but she managed to remain calm. "Of course, tomorrow won't be a problem. Not at all." She looked up at the door and the added in a whisper, "That's if you didn't have plans for us."

I leaned towards her, " _We'll_ be staying in Florence overnight."

"We?" Her breath caught and I tried, unsuccessfully, not to smirk.

"Yes." I said, " _We._ Theadora has insisted that she meet you with only me. And I would prefer to stay an extra day, just in case."

I watched as she shifted in her seat, her lips pursed. I could almost see her brain ticking over; the thought of us being together in Florence was making her nervous.

"I'm not sure," she said, her fingers running along the edge of her desk, "If someone sees us..."

"No one knows us there," I said quietly, "And besides, we don't even have to leave our room."

" _Our_ room?"

I nodded, "Yes,  _our_ room. Is that an issue?"

"Did you make the reservation or did Erica? Because if she did, she'll know about us." Her voice rose in panic.

"She organised it," I said calmly.

"Draco!" She said in a low hiss, peering at the door, "You let her know that we'll be in the same room? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that other than when we meet with Theadora, you'll be naked, so one room is all we'll need."

She gaped at me and I once again found myself shifting uncomfortably, my traitorous cock springing to life at the thought of having her to myself, and naked, in Italy. Not that we hadn't been hidden from the world along our secluded cliffs. But the way her face had lit up when I said Florence had images of her in the city flooding my brain. Very naked images of her.

"Draco-"

I held my hand up, "She won't tell a soul. Confidentiality is unbreakable here."

"But it's  _one_  room."

I smiled, "Do you trust me?"

"I do trust you," She said, but her face was still unsure, "But we still can't be seen together, other than when we meet Theadora."

"Hermione," I said calmly, "If you trust me then you know that this will be perfectly fine. If Erica suspects something, she won't say a word. And we'll be in Italy, where no one knows us, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can hole up in our room and make sure that no one sees us."

She steeled me with a serious glare and I thought that she was going to say no, but she finally answered, telling me "Fine."

"Perfect. I'll let Theadora know."

"Perfect," she echoed and smiled at me.

I stood to leave, "Oh, and if you would like to join Blaise and myself at three-thirty in the conference room?"

"You need my pretty face?"

"Your pretty face, as well as your many other talents."

" _Hmm,_ and what exact talents would you be referring to?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, " _Those_  talents are to be shared only with me."

"I'll be there." She laughed, leaning forward on her elbows, placing her chin on her palms and her eyes flicked down to the front of my pants, **"** Maybe you should take a cold shower in the mean time."

* * *

 

The look of surprise on Tavares Orozco's face was the exact reaction I was hoping for when Hermione had walked through the door a few minutes late. I had to assume her tardiness was deliberate, since her arrival had caused the desired effect. She had strolled confidently into the conference room, her shoulders back, her spine straight, and a friendly smile on her face and apologising for losing track of time.

We three men stood and greeted her, and I made the introductions.

"Hermione Granger, this is Mr. Tavares Orozco from  _Oro Hierba,"_ I indicated towards Granger, "Tavares, this is the newest member of our team—"

"Hermione Granger?" His eyes were wide and I internally high-fived myself, " _The_ Hermione Granger? You work here, Senorita?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes. It's my first day actually."

She took a seat opposite him, and began to converse in perfect Spanish. And I had to bite back my laugh as his eyes grew even wider.

I took my seat and watched as our Spanish suppliers' face grew more and more animated as he conversed with her. I glanced at Blaise and we both grinned, knowing that our plan had worked. She had, in just minutes, completely won this man over. He wasn't going anywhere.

She laughed suddenly and flicked her eyes to me, "I'm not sure if the boss will let me."

Tavares waved a dismissive hand at me, "You must, Senorita!"

I looked between them, "What did we just agree to?"

She looked at me and laughed, "Oh, Mr Orozco was just inviting me to visit with him and his wife at their villa. His daughter is apparently a huge fan of mine," She gave me a tight smile and Blaise snorted a laugh, knowing that I was in for quite the serve when the meeting was over. Despite the fact that she had agreed to this, Hermione had made it clear that she hated the notoriety that surrounded her name. But I didn't care if she smacked me in the face again when this was over. I was just happy that she was playing along.

"It might be a while before Ms. Granger can visit with you, Tavares. She will be especially busy here with us for the next few months, learning the ropes and all."

Tavares smiled at her and nodded towards me, "He is tyrant, yes?"

Hermione laughed, "He has been since the first day I met him."

I cleared my throat, "Anyway. Let's get started, shall we?"

The meeting was over in less than twenty minutes. Both Blaise and I had been astounded. Every meeting with Tavares Orozco prior to this had been at least an hour and a half, and mind numbing didn't come close to describing them. But this time he had no issues agreeing to supply what we needed from him, and he agreed enthusiastically that we would be in partnership for years to come.

I had watched Hermione's face turn smug; she knew full well that this was her doing. That had she not been in the room, this meeting would have been yet another long winded back-and-forth of pointless negotiations. But the man had agreed to everything.

He stood and shook my hand, kissed Hermione on both cheeks and – I assumed – extended the invitation to visit with him again and then followed Blaise out the door.

She turned in her chair and pointed a finger at me the instant Blaise closed the door behind him, "If I have to go to Spain and visit with his daughter just to keep you in business, you will be coming with me and you will be paying for everything."

I grinned, "I can agree to those terms."

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at me, "Is this going to happen every time?"

I shrugged, "I honestly don't know. That man has been stalling with us for months, but like I told him, you'll be extremely busy here, and I'm not sure if your tyrannical boss will let you have time off to laze the days away in Spain."

Her lips twitched and she stood, coming closer. I turned my chair to face her and she leaned down placing one hand on the armrest, the other on my leg.

I raised an eyebrow at her, "I thought you said no touching."

"I said  _you_ couldn't touch me _."_

I gripped the arms of my chair, my knuckles turning white, "That doesn't seem fair."

"It seems perfectly fair to me."

She ran her fingers along the inside of my thigh and my stomach clenched. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. I swallowed and breathed in her scent as she leaned even closer and pressed her lips hard against mine.

"I thought you made rules about this." Blaise said from the doorway.

Hermione spun around so fast I had to grab her hip to steady her.

"We did," I told him, "But apparently Granger here is a rule breaker."

Hermione cleared her throat, "I, ah..."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," He said with a wink, "I don't see the attraction, but kiss him all you want."

I squeezed her hip, "Did you want to stay here for this boring debrief of our meeting, or save yourself some embarrassment and head back to the greenhouse?"

Her cheeks went pink at my teasing, "I'll leave you both to it." She paused, glancing at Blaise before quickly kissing me again. "No one—"

"Your secret is safe," He assured her, "Besides, you scare the shit out of me Granger, I wouldn't tell a soul."

"Probably safer for you if you didn't." She said and strode out the door.

"Fuck," Blaise said, his eyes not leaving the door, "She's..."

I grinned. Erica was right; we  _had_ made the right decision. Her face was alive and full of energy, her eyes were bright and I had yet to see the smile fall from her face. She had been here just a few hours and already she half the team wrapped around her finger. Blaise included.

"Yeah," I said, "She is."

 


	14. Chapter 14

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow at him, "One room Malfoy? They only had one room left and we  _have to share it?"_

He rolled his eyes at me, "No, Granger. It's not  _one_ room. If you pulled your head out of your arse for one minute, you'd realise that it's the penthouse suite, and it has enough space in it so you won't have to see me." He held a key up, waving it in my face. "In fact, you can have your own fucking key, if you want."

He turned from me and looked at the desk clerk, who was trying his hardest to remain impassive to our raised voices. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the laughter at the look on the poor man's face. I was sure that when we stood here to check in the clerk thought that we were here for some sort of romantic tryst. His demeanour was that of sincere delight, but with the current conversation that was happening right in front of him I'm sure he figured we'd had some huge lovers spat and his job had just became that much more difficult.

I had still been nervous about travelling with him, despite his assurances that we were staying at Florence's finest muggle hotel, and no one would even know who I was. But still, Draco had agreed to appear less than friendly with me when we checked in so as to avoid any indication that this was anything more than a business trip. And our early check in – how he'd arranged to check in  _before_ our 9am meeting was beyond me – ensured that virtually no one was around to see us at the reception desk.

"Is everything alright, Mr Malfoy?" the clerk asked nervously and Draco shrugged.

He nodded his head in my direction and told him in a curt voice, "Ask her."

The clerk then turned to me and smiled, "As Mr Malfoy said, the suite contains two separate bedrooms, each with its own bathroom as well. There is a large living and dining area also, but if there's a problem, we can certainly adjust things to your needs."

"My apologies, Mr Malfoy seems to have forgotten to explain the exact arrangements to me." I said and glared at Draco, then watched as the clerk's shoulders relaxed, "I'm sure the room will be fine."

He nodded and smiled at me and then gestured towards someone standing behind me. "This is Isaac; he'll be your personal butler for your stay. Anything that you need, he'll be happy to oblige."

I looked at Draco, and he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what I was thinking; the muggle version of a house elf.

"Mr Malfoy, lovely to welcome you back," Isaac said in a deep voice that was gentle and kind. I liked him instantly. He turned to me, "And Ms..?"

"Granger," I held out my hand and he squeezed it, "Hermione, please."

He nodded politely, "Hermione. It's lovely to make your acquaintance. Now if you would follow me?"

He led us across the foyer and down a long hallway – our bags having already been whisked away - explaining to me that we had our own private entrance, our own private elevator, and a car service ready whenever we required it. Of course we did.

We rode the elevator in silence and when we stepped out, I had to hold in my gasp of surprise. The room was exquisite. Well, I say room.  _Apartment_ would be more apt.

It was two stories, with an elegant staircase in the centre of the foyer. Two doors were positioned either side, which I assumed were the bedrooms – which, when Isaac explained that our bags had been delivered to each of the rooms, my assumptions were proved correct.

I looked at Draco, who was avoiding my gaze and looking like he was bored out of his brain, but I knew that there was a smug grin just beneath the surface. He had asked me if I trusted him, and I should never have doubted him. One room, which was actually two rooms; I was worried for nothing.

Isaac led us up the stairs, and I sucked in a breath. I thought the tiny foyer was exquisite; this room was stunning. There was a large living and dining area that opened onto a rooftop terrace and a separate kitchen area. Marbled floors, stained glass and dark wood, and subtle tones of white, grey and gold, accentuated with flashes of red in the furnishings. It was beautiful, opulent, without being over the top

I stepped up to the floor to ceiling windows and looked out over the hotel gardens and the city itself. The unobstructed view was spectacular, but I was sure it wouldn't last long; the grey clouds that I had become accustomed to on the cliffs had seemed to have followed us and were threatening to explode at any moment.

"So, is this to your liking, or would you like a room of your own?" Draco said from behind me. I could hear the snark in his voice. I was sure that the desk clerk already had the word out that Mr Malfoy and his latest 'lady friend' were having a lovers tiff and they would all do well to stay out of the way, but I knew that his tone was simply ensuring that Isaac was none the wiser with our ruse.

I continued looking out the window. I didn't need big, fancy hotels; or my own butler; or my own rooftop terrace. But  _holy hell,_ this room was amazing.

"It's fine." I said without looking at him. I smiled at Isaac, "Thank you, Isaac."

"You're welcome," He said with another polite nod. "And please, if you need anything, I'll be only too happy to assist."

He turned to Draco and the two conversed briefly, but I tuned them out. I was staring out the window, watching as the first drops of rain began to fall and wondering in my ever pragmatic and logical brain just how much this room was costing him. I knew that he was a Malfoy and that he was used to only the finest things money could buy, but this was insane.

I turned to tell him such, but he caught me off guard and his mouth slid over mine before I could speak.

"Do you know how fucking hot you are when you're angry at me?" His lips skimmed my throat and all I could do was groan. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"

I had decided to tease him that morning, knowing full well that he'd lose his shit when he saw me. I had chosen a simple blue wrap dress that hit just above my knee. The vee of the neckline showed off just enough cleavage to have him hard the second he saw me, and the four inch red heels? Well, I was sure he had almost come in his pants twice already.

It was both professional and as sexy as hell at the same time, and I knew that it was the perfect distraction when he was trying to remain professional himself.

"I want you naked." He pulled on the tie at my waist and my dress slid apart, then fluttered to the floor when he slid it from my shoulders. He ran his fingers across the strap of my electric blue bra, his pupils dilating his breath becoming heavy. "I want to fuck you against that window and let all of Florence see."

"We don't have time for this," I whispered, "We have a meeting to attend."

"Oh, we have time," He said, shoving my hand against his trousers and his erect cock. "I've been fucking hard since I first saw you."

I traced my finger along his covered length, "The dress worked then?"

"Fucking tease," He murmured against my shoulder and then bit down gently.

I gasped, instantly aroused by his teeth marking my skin. He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. I peered out the window; the clouds had burst and a heavy rain had set in and distorted the view. I let out a small sigh of relief. I was already nervous about being seen here with him, and if he was about to fuck me against the window, I was glad that if anyone who happened to look over from one of the surrounding buildings would only see a blurred image.

"Hands on the window," He ordered in a dark voice and I complied, swallowing hard.

He twisted my hair in his hands, pulling my head back, allowing himself access to my neck. His mouth was hot as he dropped kisses across my shoulders and along my spine. We  _really_ didn't have time for this, but the trail of wet kisses was causing a spark of electricity to burn across my skin and the space between my thighs was throbbing with need. There was no way I was going to tell him to stop.

He dragged my underwear down my legs, and I made to kick my shoes off.

"No. Leave them on." He growled and dropped to his knees behind me, lifting one foot and then the other and dropped my knickers to the floor. He grabbed my arse, his fingers digging hard into my flesh and his teeth biting into my hip making me gasp. He stood, his hands curling around my ribs and landing on my breasts, eliciting another moan from me.

"Did you like that?" He whispered in my ear and pinched my nipples hard. He ground himself against me and I gasped, my head dropped forward and my hands slipped on the glass. I yelped when his hand came down and landed a loud, stinging smack on my arse, "I said did you like that?"

I turned to look at him, shrugging one shoulder, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He leaned in and nipped my shoulder again, "Maybe I'll get you all worked up and then  _not_ fuck you. Would you like that?"

"And you called me a tease," I said and turned back to the distorted view in front of me.

I heard a wry chuckle behind me and then found myself shoved hard against the window, the cold glass sending a shiver through me. His hand slid around my waist and down across my belly, his fingers brushing over my sex with feather-like touches. I gritted my teeth; I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that what he was doing was exactly what I wanted.

His finger slipped lower and pressed down on my clit. I inhaled a sharp breath, as he pressed and released over and over, until I was biting my cheek to stop myself from begging him to fuck me.

"Are you wet?" He pressed down hard and a small whimper escaped me. Moving lower, his finger circled my entrance, and his lips pressed down on my neck, "I think you are."

Two fingers pushed inside me. I gasped his name, and wondered how it was that he knew exactly what I needed.

"Draco," I whispered and pushed into his palm.

He kissed the back of my neck, "What's that?" He pressed his thumb hard into my clit and I groaned, "You want more?"

My _yes_ came out as a soft whimper and the hiss of his zipper was loud, almost erotic, in the quiet of the room.

"Spread your legs," He growled into my skin and I immediately parted my legs, leaning further into the window.

His hands went to my hips, pulling me back roughly and plunging inside. My hands slapped hard against the glass as he thrust deep, hitting what I could only presume was the very end of me. My entire body burned, hot and needy, and I shoved back against him wanting him deeper.

He leaned over me, taking my earlobe between his teeth, the fabric of his shirt brushing over my bare skin. "Your pussy is so fucking tight," he ground out, driving deeper and deeper with each thrust, "So fucking wet."

I groaned, unable to form a coherent response. I wanted to tell him how perfect he felt, how big, how hard, but all my words were lost as he continued to thrust over and over until I began to shiver.

He reached his hand around me, pressing his fingers hard into my clit and sending me flying. My entire body shuddered and I cried out, warmth spreading down my spine and exploding around him. He gripped my hips harder, letting me ride out the wave of pleasure that was washing over me and leaving me gasping for air.

I felt his lips press into my spine, his cock pulsing inside me. "Perfect," he murmured and began to move again.

"Draco," I moaned and reached my hand down, wanting to feel him sliding through me.

"Hands on the window," He growled, his skin slapping against mine as he moved faster, harder, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back into him with every thrust "No touching."

I slammed my hand back on the window, and he chuckled, "Now, now, Granger. Don't be angry."

"I thought I was hot when I'm angry," I panted.

He laughed again, circling his hips and making me moan, " _So_ fucking hot."

I closed my eyes, focusing on his breathing, his quiet grunts, losing myself to the delicious feeling that was surging through me again. My legs began to tremble and his hands slipped back to my hips, steadying me

"Draco...I'm...come—" I stammered as a buzz of pleasure sped down my spine and I heard him groan as I tightened around him.

"That's it," he said, panting against my shoulder, reaching for my clit once more. "That's it, Granger. Fucking come."

My breath stuttered and I choked out his name as I came, squeezing him tight. My heart was pounding in my chest, the hot rush of blood flooding my veins making me feel like I would implode.

He made a low growling sound in his throat and I looked back over my shoulder. My breath caught. His face was flushed, there was a crease between his brow, and he was breathing hard. His thrusts were wild, almost erratic, and when his eyes met mine, he thrust one last time, holding my arse against him, and I felt the warmth of his seed as he came inside me.

His head dropped to my back, his breath was hot on my skin. "Shit, Granger." He groaned and slowly moved back and forward, once, twice more and then slid out of me. He gently pulled my arms from the glass and massaged my wrists, the feeling gradually returning to them. He kissed my shoulder, my neck, the spot behind my ear, and finally he captured my mouth when I turned to look up at him.

"You okay?"

I nodded, "Perfect." I twisted from his grip and bent to pick up my dress and knickers from the floor and took a step towards the stairs.

He grabbed my arm, stopping me, "And you're going where?"

"Um, we have a meeting in," I glanced at the clock on the wall, "Twenty minutes, and I need to clean up."

He shook his head and grinned smugly at me, "No, there's no time."

"Draco!" I stared at him in disbelief as he calmly tucked himself back into his pants, "I can't meet with Theadora Trentino with your...still inside me."

He brushed his hands across his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, and straightened his jacket, "You'll have to. We need to leave, now."

I glared at him, stepping forward and punching his shoulder, "Arsehole."

He laughed and watched as I scrambled to get dressed. "No one will know."

"I will," I snapped and pulled my underwear on. I squirmed, and he grinned at me, "Arsehole." I said again.

He helped me with my dress, kissing my shoulder as I tightened the tie around my waist. "You already said that."

"And I'll keep saying it all day." I grimaced as I took a step away from him. My underwear would be ruined.

"We can shower when we get back," He winked at me and I narrowed my eyes at him.

" _I'll_ shower," I said and headed for the stairs, "You can sit on the couch and think about me showering."

He threw his head back and laughed, "That's nothing new. I think about you showering all the time."

I looked back and tried not to laugh with him. I shook my head, "You're an arsehole Malfoy."

* * *

 

"Signor Malfoy!" Theadora exclaimed, "Why you not tell me Hermione Granger work for you?"

She greeted me as if we had known each other for years, grabbing my shoulders and kissing both my cheeks, all the while babbling excitedly in a confusing mix of Italian and English, her hands flailing animatedly.

I blanched at the tiny woman standing in front of me. I was known to Theadore Trentino. I could hardly believe it.

"You know who I am?" I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

Theadora laughed, "But of course,  _tesoro,_ you more famous than me!"

I laughed, "That's very kind of you, but I don't think that's true."

"Oh, you modest," she laughed, "You hunt Dark Lord and survive, you famous in my book."

I looked at Draco, he was staring back at me with wide eyes, but I could see the smile behind them.

He had briefed me before we met with her, explaining that she might be difficult as she hated change and would most likely want to interrogate me for hours – possibly the entire two days we would be there. No matter how relaxed he had been after shagging me senseless, he had been more nervous than I had; nervous that yet another supplier to his company would abandon him. But I watched as all the tension left him when Theadora greeted us; he knew that the partnership with Tretino's was secure.

I would have to remind him of just how much he owed me.

"Come, come," Theodora beckoned for us to follow her, "I show you shop."

And her shop was amazing. It was something I had hardly dared to dream that I would ever get the chance to see. It was pristine, unlike most other wizarding shops, everything clearly had its place and I was reluctant to even step too close to her wares.

"Theodora," I said in awe, "Your shop is amazing. I could spend days here."

She smiled and patted my cheek, "You welcome anytime."

We spent barely an hour with her, touring her shop as she chatted animatedly and meeting her few staff, before she told us that she was delighted to be dealing with me and that she hoped that she would actually see me in Florence often, not just over the floo. And in a move that had me laughing, she pinched Draco's cheek and nodded towards me, telling him  _you pick a good one,_ and then sent us on our way.

* * *

 

"Two days, okay," my mind was racing, "Well definitely the Uffizi Gallery and The Galleria dell'Accademia, we'll do those tomorrow. If we head to the Cathedral now, and maybe the Piazzale Michelangelo, and we can see The Ponte Vecchio before we head back here."

"I didn't think you wanted to be seen in public with me." Draco was leaning on the door of the bathroom, watching as I showered and changed. I had been firm in my stance of him not showering with me after his performance that morning, but he had insisted that we talk about our meeting with Theadora.

And now, because the meeting with her had gone so well, we had almost two full days to explore the city. He had already been here, several times, but it was a first for me, and I decided that if we stuck to the muggle tourist attractions, we'd most likely not be seen.

"I didn't," I answered, "But if you can keep your hands to yourself, I'm sure it will be fine."

"I will try my best to be the perfect gentleman," He said stepping forward and running his finger down my bare arm, "I know I already said thanks, but today went better than I ever thought it would. Theadora loved you."

I nodded and smiled, embarrassed at the compliment. I had been overly nervous to meet with her, but Theadora had been a complete surprise. While I hated the fame, I found that I was delighted that she had actually known who I was. "I'm still not sure how she knows me." I said and Draco rolled his eyes at me, "What?"

"You do remember who you are, don't you?" He looked at me with amusement, "Hermione Granger. War Hero."

I grimaced. I hated the title. Hated it more than anyone could know. There were more than just three of us that fought, yet Harry, me and Ron had been singled out as the heroic trio that saved the Wizarding world. We'd played our part, for sure, but  _War Hero, it couldn't be further from the truth._

"Is that not who you are? Did I hire the wrong person?"

I leaned over and shoved at his arm playfully, "Yes, I  _am_ Hermione Granger, funny man, but I'm no more a war hero than you're a Death Eater."

His expression changed from one of amusement to one of thoughtfulness. "Why do you say that? You did more than anyone else."

I shook my head, "No. Everyone helped. I was just one person. Everyone deserves as much praise as I get. I hate the title and I hate all the attention that comes with it. And I hate that The Ministry wanted a pretty face that they could simply exploit. They didn't want me working in the basement, but I guess the basement was better than nothing."

He smirked at me, "A pretty face?"

"Yes Malfoy," I shrugged one shoulder and smiled sweetly, "You know it. It's why  _you_ hired me, remember? You needed a pretty face to make you look good."

He stepped towards me and his hand reached out and brushed my hair over my shoulder, "I believe I've already told you that your other talents far precede your pretty face."

"I believe you have," I said and ran the tip of my finger across his jaw, "But you won't get to enjoy those other talents for some time after the stunt you pulled this morning."

"Oh, come now," He murmured as he ran his nose along my cheek, "Tell me you didn't enjoy having a part of me that close to you all morning."

"No, actually I didn't," I said stepping away from him. I actually did. I  _shouldn't_ have liked that he was being possessive, and _I definitely_ shouldn't have liked that he wanted to mark me – as it were – as his. But I did like that he wanted me, and that he wanted me in a way that let me know that I owned his arse.

I held up my ruined knickers, "You owe me new underwear."

"Hmm, well, that's something we'll need to discuss," He said pulling me back to him, "I much prefer you without it."

"Of course you would," I laughed, "Now, I believe you said you would show me Florence?"

"I said no such thing." He shook his head, "What I told you was that I would show you the  _view_ of Florence."

"Yeah, nice try," I said stepped around him, headed for the door. I paused and looked back at him, "We have two days to kill. I hope you like museums."

 


	15. Chapter 15

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

"Alright," I said stopping mid step, "That's it. I cannot take another step."

Hermione turned to look at me, "Are you tired? Poor baby."

I studied her. Her face was painted with delight. We had spent the entire day roaming the museums, castles, and the streets of Florence, and I was loathe to admit it, but I was exhausted. The amount of energy she had was endless, but now the sun had dipped below the city skyline and evening was upon us, and I'd had enough.

_And I was starving._

"Aren't you hungry?"

She looked at her watch and then her head whipped back up to me, "Oh," She said with an innocent grimace, "I didn't realise."

I pointed up at the darkening sky, "I know you didn't." I said and then tilted my head, "Follow me."

She followed as I led her along the footpath, turning down a dark alley, and apparating us across the city. We landed in another alley and I led her back to the street, the cold air hitting us as we rounded the corner. We walked another block and I stopped just outside a rustic wooden door that was set back into a stone archway.

She gripped my arm, "Are we dressed well enough for here?" She was looking down at her jeans.

I followed her eyes; she was wearing tight-fitting jeans, knee-high boots and a stylish woollen coat that covered the grey turtleneck jumper beneath it.

"You'll be fine." I assured her, wanting to take her hand in mine, but resisted. I 'd managed to make it through the day with limited touching; my hand on her back, directing her; an innocent brushing of shoulders or hands as we strolled through the museums and galleries; a sneaky kiss when we found ourselves alone for half a minute.

I opened the door for her and she inhaled the delicious aroma's that wafted out into the cold air, and I was sure that I heard her stomach growl. I followed her as she eagerly headed inside, grinning at her gasp when she saw just how small the restaurant was. Small, round tables were dotted around the space, and sputtering candles sat atop them in red and green glass jars casting in intimate glow across the had long been a favourite of mine as it was unobtrusive and quiet, and I could eat here without even being noticed.

"Ah! Signor Malfoy!" A short, heavy-set man greeted us as we brushed our shoulders of the light dusting of snow that had begun to fall outside.

"Tomasso," I shook his hand and stepped back, avoiding the usual cheek-kissing greeting. "Do you have a table for us?"

"Of course, of course!" He exclaimed and greeted Hermione, who allowed the cheek-kissing with a smirk at me.

He led us towards the window in the front and I felt a small flicker of panic. Being seen in museums and art galleries could be explained away if anyone happened to see us, and at this early hour there were few other diners to notice us, but a table by the window in a small, romantic restaurant would definitely make waves if we happened to be seen.

" _Non vicino alla finestra,"_ I said and Tomasso nodded, and changed direction, leading us towards the rear corner, which was probably worse. We were now sitting in a dimly-lit corner away from the few other diners and probably looked like a loved-up couple who wanted privacy so we could whisper sweet nothings and stare lustfully at each other. It wasn't far from the truth, but I was still acutely aware of her want to stay hidden just a bit longer.

Hermione was staring at me as we sat, "What?" I asked.

"You speak Italian?"

"You speak Spanish." I countered, reminding her of her interaction with Tavares.

"What did you tell him?"

"Ah, I said not to sit us near the window." I shrugged, "Might be safer back here."

She looked back at the window and then her eyes trailed across the restaurant.

"You don't like it?" I asked.

"No, it's perfect," She shrugged, "I guess I've just missed this."

I frowned, looking over my shoulder and wondering exactly what she was referring to.

"I just mean that we've been holed up on the cliffs for months, it's nice to do this with you."

My heart leapt into my throat. Did that mean..?

"I agree," I said trying to keep my voice from wavering, "Does that mean you want to do this more often?"

"I do, but…" she hesitated.

I reached across the small table and lightly touched her hand, "Talk to me."

Leaning her chin on her hand and twisting her glass in her fingers, she was quiet for several long seconds, a thoughtful frown creasing her features.

"Today was wonderful," she finally said, looking up at me, "I loved spending time with you just doing something normal and not having to hide. Don't get me wrong," she added quickly, "I love our hideaway on the cliffs. I love that we can be there and not have the world watching us, but this was perfect as well."

I nodded, but remained silent.

"I want people to know we're together, but not the entire world just yet."

"Okay," I said, "What are you suggesting?"

"Maybe we could start out small." Her knee brushed against mine and she smiled, "How binding is the company's confidentiality agreement?"

"Unbreakable," I said and her smile widened.

"And do you trust your team?"

"They were handpicked by the three of us, so yes, I trust them implicitly."

"We're they aware that you wanted me to work for you before we became...us?"

"Yes, they were well aware of it. We've all wanted you there for quite some time now."

"Perfect." She said, "We could just make this known to them, in confidence of course, but it might be somewhere to start."

"I think that's a brilliant plan." I nudged her knee with mine, but she held up her hand.

"This doesn't mean you can kiss me in hallways, or the greenhouse,  _or_ the elevator," her face was so serious that I had to laugh.

"And why on earth would you think I would kiss you in the elevator?"

She shot me a wry smile, "So you weren't thinking 'elevator sex' yesterday?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, "Draco, I mean it. If we do this, we have to stay professional."

I matched her pose and lifted an eyebrow, "If I remember correctly, it was you who kissed me in the conference room yesterday. Or am I mistaken?"

Her cheeks went an adorable shade of pink, and then she laughed, "I guess I did."

I unfolded my arms and leaned forward, "Hermione, all joking aside, if this is what you want, then I'm more than happy to oblige."

She stared at me, remaining silent, and I had the distinct feeling that she was up to something, I just couldn't place it. I wouldn't admit it to her, but I was nervous about her idea. I wasn't lying when I said that the confidentiality agreement that we had in place was unbreakable, and I knew that the entire team wanted her there, but how they would react to us being together, well, I had no idea.

And as much as I wanted the entire world to know, I was equally as nervous about that. I was sure that I was not the person that everyone saw her with. The immediate reaction from Potter and Ginny was most likely to be the reaction from everyone. I knew that she would handle it, despite her concerns about out status being known, but my temper was not my finest quality.

I was just grateful that _she_ could forgive my past and see me as the person I had become. And I just hoped that since everyone loved and admired her that they would recognise the fact that someone as kind and as good as Hermione Granger wouldn't be with someone like me if I hadn't changed my ways, and that they would give me the same chance that she had.

"Alright," She finally said as our food arrived, "If you're comfortable, we'll take baby steps."

I refilled her glass, and my stomach clenched at the tiny groan she made as she began devouring the plate of food in front of her. She winked cheekily at me, and told me that my cooking was  _almost_ as good. I pinched her knee under the table, making her squirm, and I understood what she had meant. This was like a date – I guess it was a date, our first in public at least. And I agreed with her; it was nice to do this with her.

But as the small restaurant filled up, a surge of jealousy hit me and despite everyone around us being complete strangers, I wanted her all to myself.

And when she licked chocolate sauce from her finger, I was done for.

"Granger, we should go," I said in a low voice, and her nostrils flared, her pupils dilated, and she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, "We're wasting a perfectly good hotel room."

* * *

 

I stepped out of the floo on Thursday morning, turning to wait for her to do the same. The few seconds it took for her to join me seemed like an age, my nerves kicking in and filling my stomach with knots.

We had agreed that there would be no hand holding, no kissing, and definitely no elevator sex. But arriving and leaving together would be perfectly appropriate. And we decided that we wouldn't directly tell our co-workers that we were together, but instead we simply wouldn't deny that we were if they asked.

But even with all of that, I knew she was nervous - even though she seemed calm - which in turn escalated my nerves to the point where I had spent the entire evening hovering around her. Which lead to an extremely irate Granger and extremely blue balls for me.

She stepped out of the floo and I couldn't stop my grin. "You ready for this?"

She brushed a speck of dust from her shoulder, "I am. Are you?"

"Mr. Malfoy, Hermione," Alexis greeted us with a too big smile, "I assume your trip went well?"

I glanced at Hermione and Alexis grinned at the startled expressions on our faces and slid The Daily Prophet across the desk, "It's official, you work for us."

The headline blared at us,  _Granger out of Hiding,_ and beneath it an older photo of Hermione scowled at us.

" _After several months of speculation as to her whereabouts, Hermione Granger has finally emerged from her self-imposed exile and is now working at_ MZP Potions _with her once former school rivals, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson."_ Hermione read, _"Theadora Trentino confirmed Ms. Grangers' appointment as head Herbologist for the trio after she met with Ms. Granger on Monday in Florence, to solidify dealings between the two companies. Signora Trentino was only too pleased to announce that she was not only delighted to continue her association with the new potion company, but she was emphatic in her delight to be working with 'war hero' Granger."_

She looked up at me and smiled, "Alexis is right; I definitely work here."

"You're okay with this?" I asked, tapping my finger on the headline.

"They were going to find out anyway," she pointed out, "And just wait until they find out the rest."

I snapped my eyes to Alexis, who was grinning madly and patting her hands together lightly, "Ooh, please let me be there when they find  _that out!"_

Hermione laughed, "We're hoping it's a while before they do."

I looked between them, "Wait.  _What?_ You already know about Hermione and me?"

My receptionist gave me a look of kindness; one that told me she thought me very sweet, but very stupid. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I'm fairly certain everyone here already knows."

"But...but...how?" I spluttered. "She's only actually worked here one day!"

Hermione patted my arm, "Not everyone is as blind as you are, baby."

My jaw dropped open at her endearment, "But you said no—" I stopped at the look on her face and I narrowed my eyes at her, "You did this for me, didn't you? That whole conversation we had in Florence, you were aware that they all knew?"

"Not everyone is as slow to catch on either."

"So it was to make it easier on me, not you?"

"I realised on Monday morning we weren't hiding anything," She explained, "But I knew you had no idea. And Blaise told me to mess with you."

I kissed her temple, "You're lucky I like you," I told her, "Blaise on the other hand..."

"I suggest you head up," Alexis advised, glancing at the glass door that fronted the building, "I'm sure the vultures will be here soon, they'll be eager to find out what's going on."

I nodded, pointedly thanking her for her discretion, and smiled as Hermione offered her hand to me. I slipped my hand into hers, linking our fingers, and liking the feel of her warm hand in mine.

"So, we're breaking this rule," I said nodding towards our joined hands, "Are the others in danger?"

She shot me a look that was so sinful my cock twitched, "Maybe."

* * *

 

I worked furiously throughout the day. Blaise and I were smug as owl after owl appeared; the deserters wanting back in. I'd seen her only once in passing since we'd parted at the elevators earlier that morning, stopping her briefly in the hallway to kiss her - not caring if anyone saw me - to say thanks.

But since then, I had barely lifted my head from the stack of parchment that kept landing on my desk.

"Are you nearly done?" she said from the doorway.

I looked up, the light from the hallway silhouetted her frame in the doorway and I realised that with the exception of the lamp on my desk, my office had grown dark.

"I guess so," I said, tossing the quill I was holding onto my desk and leaning back in my chair. I gripped the back of my neck and squeezed my eyes shut, weariness suddenly washing over me. I heard the door shut and then felt her lips on my forehead, and I reached blindly for her, my hand circling her hip and felt an instant warmth spread through my chest at the nearness of her.

"Big day?" She asked quietly, slipping her hand to the back of my neck and massaging the tight muscles she found there.

"Yeah," I said not opening my eyes, "Thanks to you we've people knocking down our doors to work with us." I pulled her in front of me and bent forward, burying my head into her stomach and she pressed both hands into my neck and shoulders.

"I don't think it's all me." She pressed her fingers harder into my neck, finding a particularly stubborn knot, "Theadora helped."

I chuckled and tightened my grip around her waist, feeling my shoulders finally relax. I sighed when her fingers dragged through my hair and smiled when I felt her lips press to the back of my head.

"Draco?" her voice was barely a whisper.

"Hmm," I murmured against her stomach.

"Sorry about this morning."

I lifted my head to look at her and I saw the look of sincerity in her eyes. I brushed my hand across her rear, "I know," I said, "And it's perfectly fine. I guess we didn't hide this very well."

She cupped my jaw and I kissed her thumb as she ran it across my lips. "I think it's only because we've not had to hide it, no one lives anywhere near us to see us."

"You're right again Granger," I slapped her arse, and she giggled, "Are you ready to go home?"

"Not quite," she said and put her hand on my chest, gently pushing me back into my chair.

"Hermione, what—?" my eyes went as wide as saucers when she dropped to her knees. I scrambled for my wand on the desk, aiming it at the door, hearing the audible  _click_ as it locked. I grabbed her hands, "What are you doing?"

She gave me a wicked grin, and pulled her hands from mine, tracing them along my thighs, "Breaking the rules."

I swallowed as she went to work on my waistcoat, unbuttoning it and pushing it aside. She tugged my shirt from my pants, and bent down to kiss my stomach. I sucked in a breath and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I should have been watching her, but before she really got started, I just wanted to feel.

Her mouth never stopped moving as she kissed every inch of my skin, my hips, her tongue circling my belly button. She unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it apart and exposing my torso.

"Draco," she whispered as her fingers stopped just over my heart, "Watch me,  _please?"_

I looked down at her and she was staring up at me. My heart slammed under my ribs, and her plea hit me. Despite her bravado, she'd not done this before. I tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, reassuring her that what she was doing was perfect. I had told her that the first time she did this, I would fuck her mouth, but she hadn't even put my cock in her mouth and I already wanted her to so this to me again, so there was no way I would be too rough and scare her.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" I asked gently, "Home might be more comfortable."

"No." she said firmly and kissed my stomach, "I  _definitely_ want to do this here."

I smiled and caressed her cheek, understanding immediately; she wanted a new image in her head. Walking in on her former boyfriend was something she was still struggling to forget, and if this was what she needed to get _that_ image out of her head, well, who was I to tell her no?

She unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly, spreading her hand over my boxer briefs and my steadily growing cock. I lifted my hips helping her ease my pants down my legs, and gripped the arms of my chair when she bent down and kissed the tip.

She rocked back on her heels and looked up at me, her expression asking me to help her.

I gripped myself, "Use your tongue. Start at the bottom, lick me all the way to the top. Go slow."

She didn't hesitate, leaning in and drawing an agonisingly slow line along the underside of my cock with the tip of her tongue.

I shuddered and when she looked up I grinned. "Again."

She leaned back down, her eyes not leaving mine as she flattened her tongue and licked me from base to tip, flicking over the head, catching the first leaking drops of moisture and drawing a moan from me.

"Good?" She asked sliding her hand along the inside of my thigh, stopping just millimetres away from my balls.

"Brilliant," I assured her, "Keep going."

I watched as she became bolder, licking and kissing along every inch of my shaft, and then finally,  _finally, s_ he wrapped her lips around me and drew me into her mouth. I made a rather loud, undignified groan when her tongue twirled around the tip. She dropped lower, slowly taking more of me into her mouth, and I swore, loudly, when she increased the pressure and dragged her mouth back up. She released me with a gasp and I cupped her jaw.

"Alright?"

She smiled and let out a breathy "Yeah."

I took her hand and wrapped it around the base of my cock, "Did you want to keep going?"

"Do you  _want_ me to keep going?"

I laughed, "Am I an arse if I say  _fuck yes_?"

She grinned at me impishly, "You're an arse anyway."

We both laughed, and then the torture started. I swore again as she dipped her head, her mouth closing around me, her tongue swirling and her teeth grazing me gently. She reached her free hand up and circled her fingers through the hair on my navel, humming around me, the vibration causing my balls to tighten and my hips to rock of their own volition.

She moaned at the movement, and my hips jerked again when her teeth bit down gently. I hissed out a breath and her eyes flicked up to mine; the sight of her mouth around me, her eyes dark and wanting, had me clenching my jaw.

"Harder," I said through gritted teeth, and my head thumped back onto the chair as her mouth sunk low, taking me in to the hilt, and then her cheeks hollowed creating a hard, almost painful, suction as she slowly rose back up.

"Hard enough?" she asked with a smirk, the tip of my cock resting against her lips.

"Perfect," I exhaled and slid both my hands into her hair, guiding her back over my twitching cock. She found a rhythm, her mouth and hand working in unison, twisting and twirling, and I pulled her hair back over her shoulders, watching her.

The million or so dreams I'd had of her doing this were nothing compared to reality. Her mouth was all heat and warmth and moisture, her lips swollen and red, and the tiny sounds she made vibrated along the length of me making my balls clench painfully tighter.

I bucked up harder when her hand squeezed my sac, and my promise to myself dissolved instantly. I gripped her hair tighter, holding her head in place and thrust up, pushing hard into her mouth and grunting as I hit the back of her throat. Her fingernails dug into my thigh and she closed her eyes, an exhale of breath from her nose tickled across my skin.

"Good girl," I growled as her mouth tightened around me, sucking hard and rolling her tongue while I continued to slide between her wet lips. "Let me fuck your mouth."

She nodded and I pumped into her mouth, watching closely for any sign she wanted me to stop, but her muffled groans and hums told me she was enjoying this as much as I was, that she liked the feeling of my cock plunging into her mouth.

The familiar tingle buzzed along my spine, my body began to tense and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of my neck. She looked up at me, her brown eyes blazing with desire and boring directly into mine, and I felt my cock swell in her mouth.

"Granger…fuck!...coming." I managed, tugging her hair, attempting to pull her off me.

She slapped my hands away, increasing the pressure, her head bobbing frantically.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" I tried to pull her away again, but she buried her face against my pelvis and I came in seconds, spilling into the back of her throat. She moaned, and I felt her throat close as she swallowed around my cock. Another small burst of liquid shot out of me, and then another, and she licked and sucked and swallowed until I groaned and told her to stop.

My stomach clenched and my entire body jerked as she slowly released me, and then leaned her head on my thigh. Her eyes were glassed over, her breaths were short, and a tiny smile twitched on her lips.

I slumped back in my chair and threw my arm across my eyes. My entire body tingled, "Thank you." I said and she laughed.

"You liked it then?"

I lowered my arm and ran my hand though her hair, "Yes, I definitely liked it. And I definitely like  _rule-breaking_ Granger."

She lifted her head off my leg and I reached out and cupped her face with one of his hand. She was a dishevelled mess, her cheeks pink, her lips wet, and she looked amazing.

"Really?" She asked, her eyes unsure. "I mean I've never done that before, and I wasn't sure if—"

I pressed my finger against her lips, "You were perfect. I loved every second of it."

She blushed, and I leaned forward, bringing my lips to hers, rubbing my thumb gently across the side of her face and kissing her slowly. She sighed and wrapped her arms around my neck, and I lifted her to my lap. Her tongue danced with mine, our kiss remaining slow and tender, my hands caressing her face, her neck, over her shoulders and back and finally resting on her hips.

She pulled away from my lips and pressed her forehead to mine, "We should go home."

"Maybe we should wait until I can feel my legs again."

She smiled and I reached for the front of her pants, my fingers pressing against the button, "Maybe I could repay the favour."

She shook her head, "No, I wanted to do this just for you. I don't need anything."

I lifted her chin and met her eyes, "Alright?"

She nodded and tucked her head into my neck. I wrapped her in my arms and we sat quietly, our breathing the only sound in the room. I was heavy with sleep, and she was warm in my arms, tucked perfectly against me. I was blissfully happy and completely spent and honestly, I didn't want to move.

I heard her exhale, a shaky, gasping sound breaking the silence, and then she shuddered in my arms, a tiny sob escaping her.

"Hermione?"

"I–I'm s–sorry," she stuttered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." I assured her and held her tighter.

"I shouldn't have done that." She hiccupped, "Not  _here."_

I pressed my lips to her temple, "I'm not complaining."

"But I shouldn't have," she was trying to control her sobs, "Not like that. Not to you." She pushed at my chest, trying to escape my arms, but I kept them folded around her like a steel cage.

"No!," her voice cracked and she still struggled against me, "I'm no better than him!"

I wasn't aware that it was possible, but a white-hot anger surged through me at the same time that my heart cracked in two.

"Look at me," I said, loosening my grip and forcing her eyes level with mine, "You did nothing wrong here. What you did was perfect and spontaneous and right. You're not like him. Not at all."

She swallowed thickly and looked at me through tear-filled eyes, but remained silent.

"Hey," I said gently, the sadness in her eyes was breaking my heart further, "Talk to me"

She fidgeted with the button on my shirt, her face unsure. "I didn't mean to use you like that." She shrugged, "I don't actually know what I was thinking when I walked in here, I just knew that I wanted you, and I couldn't wait."

"Were you thinking that you wanted know what it was like?" I asked cautiously and she frowned at me. "Did you want to know what it was like to what  _he did?_

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I squeezed her hip, "Because if sucking my cock was what you needed to get  _that_ image out of your head, then I am more than happy to have been used."

She laughed softly, "Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said, "In fact, I might insist that you do it again."

She finally let out an easy breath, "You're a little too perfect, you know that?"

I winked at her, "I like to exceed expectations occasionally."

She laughed and brushed her hands through my hair, "Draco, this was a one-time thing, yeah?"

I dogged down my disappointment. She could lock my office door every day, I certainly wouldn't object. "Why's that?"

"I want to keep this between for us. At home, or in hotels," She paused, and the spark returned to her eyes, "The beach."

My disappointment lessened slightly at the thought of her naked on the sand, "I think I can work with that."

"Good," she said, "Home?"

I kissed the tip of her nose, "Home."

 


	16. Chapter 16

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

"Yes, Mr. Brach, I am well aware of the agreement you have with Mr Malfoy. However, since its non-binding, he has no reason to continue dealing with you." I said with an indifferent shrug, "Maybe you should consider making your contracts unbreakable...or is that all a little too above board for you?"

Our meeting with Demetruis Brach, the ingredient supplier we were here to see, was going about as well as I had expected. His name was well known in Ministry circles; he was a purist, through and through. And the look he had in his eye when I walked through the door would have been enough to kill me if, as the saying went, looks could in fact kill.

I had wandered up and down his shelves of supplies and had to hold back my laughter. It was rubbish, and I had no idea how Draco had let the man con him into buying from him. I listened while they spoke, rolling my eyes when Demetrius questioned Draco's reason for hiring the likes of me.

While my team was growing plants and herbs within Draco's company, they were just a small part of the potion making process. The list of ingredients we required was long and exhaustive. But Demetrius was not someone I wanted to deal with. Not by a long shot, and I had no idea what Draco's reasons for dealing with him were. But I did understand why Draco had insisted he come along with me; the man's dislike for me was coming off him in waves.

And the feelings were mutual. I'd thankfully, up until now, never met him, and the instant we had walked into his shop, I had taken an immediate dislike to the man.

"Drella de Hofren's is a far better company all around for our needs, Draco. Trust me. I dealt with her through The Ministry from the time I began working there. Ultimately, it's your decision, but if you want your company to be well respected, you want the best. And Mr. Brach here is far from it."

Demetrius sneered at me, "And what would you know about the best? You're a just filthy mudblood, you should know your place and shut your trap."

I reached to the shelf beside me and pulled two bottles down. "This says  _Acromantula Venom,"_ I held up one bottle, "Rubeus Hagrid and Horrace Slughorn are the only two known holders of the venom. And I doubt that you have the spine to even go near a giant spider to collect this."

I swirled the liquid in the second bottle. "This one says  _Sal Ammoniac._ Severus Snape was the last known person to have the true form of it. And it now is held safely in the vaults at The Ministry. Neither bottle holds true forms of what you would have us believe they contain. Both are the rarest ingredients known, Mr Brach, and I seriously doubt that you have the knowledge, nor the expertise, to recognise that these are fakes."

I chuckled as he swallowed hard and flicked his eyes to Draco, knowing full well he'd been caught out. I knew the second I walked in the door he had no knowledge of what it was that he was selling.

"And yes Mr. Brach, I'm well aware of my status. Bellatrix Lestrange made sure of that." I locked my eyes on his and heard Draco's sharp intake of breath as I calmly rolled up my sleeve uncovering the scar that his crazed Aunt emblazoned me with. Draco had seen it, of course he had, but I usually glamoured it or kept it hidden if I was in public; the questions and the sympathetic looks were something I hated to have to deal with. But sometimes it had the perfect effect.

Demetrius' eyes flicked down to my arm and his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. And I knew that, like everyone else who saw it, he was wondering how on earth it was that I had managed to survive the torture it took to put it there.

I brushed over the word that I had looked at every day since that night in The Manor and I smiled at him, "Go ahead, call me Mudblood. It's just a word on my arm that's slowly fading over time, and I wear it with pride. It's a daily reminder of just who won the war. And you would do well to remember that."

I turned to Draco, whose eyes were like saucers staring at my arm. We had talked about that night, and he was still horrified at his own actions despite my assurances that what happened hadn't been his fault. "I can negotiate a better contract with Drella before this pathetic excuse for an ingredient supplier can say dandelion root...if he even knows what  _that_ is." I turned back to Demetrius and smiled sweetly at him, "Oh, and Draco, maybe you should ask Mr. Brach why all your suppliers are abandoning you."

Demetrius snarled at me, "What are you accusing me of, mudblood?"

I shook my head and laughed, "You truly are stupid if you don't know. You are as shady as they come, Mr. Brach, and Draco should be very suspicious. The Ministry certainly is."

Demetrius began to speak, but I held a hand up, silencing him. His eyebrows winged up when the realisation that I had silenced him without the use of a wand hit him.

"I'm right, Draco. There was a reason you hired me to work for you and you should really listen to me, it will save you a lot of trouble," I said, ignoring the glare from the oaf standing beside him, "And if you don't want to use Drella's I can list a dozen other better suppliers that we can deal with.

"Mr. Brach here has a bunch of morons working for him, and I dare say he is the biggest moron of the lot. Drella's is a much more organised company with actual knowledge of what it is they are selling, and she will do the right thing by you. I'll contact her immediately and schedule a meeting."

I took a step closer to Demetrius, poked my finger into his chest and lowered my voice, "I have no idea who you think you are  _Demetrius,_  but you would do well to stay away from me. Because if you think that your blood means that you know more than I do, you'd be sorely mistaken. You are a rogue and a thief, and I give you fair warning; do not mess with me. Because if you do, it will be to your own detriment. And you can expect a visit from The Ministry in the coming days."

I looked at Draco, "I'll talk to you later."

I turned on my heel and left the shop, letting out a deep breath when I finally hit the street.

* * *

****** DRACO *******

* * *

 

I shoved the door to her office open, and found myself looking at an empty chair. I swore, loudly, and spun on my heel.

"So, I'm assuming the meeting went well then?" Pansy asked as she entered Hermione's office and sat behind her desk.

"Where is she?" I snapped.

Pansy smirked, ignoring my tone, "What'd she do? Did she finally put that rat bastard in his place?"

I gritted my teeth, but Pansy spoke before I had a chance.

"Sit down." She said and then raised an eyebrow when I didn't move. "Sit. Down."

I paused a second longer, and then sighed, resigned to the fact that I was about to be lectured by my friend.

"Did she get rid of him?"

I scrubbed my hands across my face and into my hair, balling my hands into fists and almost yanking my own hair from my head, "Yeah, spectacularly so."

"So what's the problem?"

I shrugged, and held my hands up in an  _I don't know_ gesture.

She leaned forward, "Draco, you've been trying to rid us of him for months, so if Hermione managed that in one meeting, you should be pleased."

I had left Demetrius in shock. I was in shock. She had effectively dismissed him, discontinuing any dealings with him, and left me with little choice; her or him. She didn't have to say the words, but her refusal to deal with him let me know that was the choice I had.

I had been dealing with Demetrius since we'd started the company. He said it would be his pleasure to help Lucius' son get started. I truly did not want to deal with him, but I assumed that he was somewhat trustworthy. Lucius would string him up by his balls if he was.

But as soon as she had pointed out just how shady Demetrius was, the realisation hit me.

Lucius was in jail.

Lucius was unable to stand over anyone anymore. Lucius had done his own shady deals with Merlin knows who for years, and now those people could easily get their own back at him by fucking me over.

I had stupidly missed it.

"You and Blaise tell me all the time that I'm an idiot," I said wryly, "I'm starting to think it's true."

"We only say it because we love you," Pansy said with a smile, "But it's  _not_  true. You know that."

I sighed and tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling, "All of our suppliers are back and she's gotten rid of that bastard. How is it possible?"

"Because she's brilliant," Pansy stated, "But you already knew that. We brought her here for a reason, Draco, and it seems as though she's doing everything we hoped. We're better off without Demetrius, you know that. And everyone will know that she's the reason we've rid ourselves of him. It can only mean good things for us." She shot me a knowing look, "And she's definitely meant good things for you."

In the month since she had started with us, the atmosphere in the offices had changed from pure professionalism, to a warmth and friendliness that I had never expected. She worked hard, but she also made everyone around her feel as important as Pansy, Blaise and myself.

She smiled, she laughed, she talked with everyone one in the building. There were smiles surrounding us, and friendly  _hello's_ instead of silent nods and concentrated frowns.

And when word got out that she was now working with us, The Ministry had made a complete sweep of our premises, doing all they could to find fault and win her back. But they had underestimated her, and she explained that unless every potion maker and ingredient supplier in wizarding Britain was also scrutinised, the Aurors office would be called, and The Ministry itself would subjected to a full investigation as to why it was targeting a legitimate business and not any of the more shady ones.

They had scurried away leaving the three of us in awe of her.

But then, I was in awe of her already. And both Pansy and Blaise had commented on how much calmer I had been since she'd been in my life.

"I guess it was just unexpected," I slumped on my chair, "I wasn't prepared for her to be like that."

Pansy laughed, "You do know who she is, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know who she is," I gripped the back of my neck, "I'm so used to being the one in control…she surprised me."

"You don't have to be a control freak all the time," Pansy told me and leaned forward, "You know she's good for us, for you, so trust her and let her do her thing."

"I do trust her."

"Then let her do this. She's only been here a month and has already made vast improvements," She stood and made for the door, smiling back at me, "Imagine where we'll be in a year from now."

* * *

 

It was early in the evening and I stood in the shadows, just out of the dim glow of light. I could see her in the kitchen, cooking, and I wondered if she assumed that I would arrive at some time, or if she was pissed off at me for not showing up earlier and was only cooking for herself.

I had sat in her office for almost an hour after Pansy left, letting her words sink in. I had returned from our meeting expecting to yell, to argue with her, but after speaking with Pansy, I had been unsure of exactly what to do with myself. An ache had formed in my head, working its way across my forehead, behind my eyes and snaking down my neck and shoulders. It was my own fault; my temper had gotten the better of me, again, and I had no real idea why I was so pissed at her. She had done exactly what I should have months ago. Demetrius' attempted stand-over tactics hadn't even registered with her, and she had told him everything I had wanted to. And she did it in a manner that had blown me away.

But she hadn't returned to the office since we left, and as Blaise had pointed out much later in the day, it had been years since anyone had called her Mudblood, and that while she was resilient and strong, the term still probably cut her to the bone. And he had shaken his head at me when I told him that she had revealed her scar.

"And  _you're_ pissed at _her_?" Blaise had said, looking incredulous. "You may have some grovelling to do."

I had opened my mouth to protest, but he had stopped me.

"She's the best thing that has ever happened to you, and yes, you are allowed to be pissed at her for some things, this is  _not_ one of them. Demetrius is an arsehole, and he proved it beyond a doubt today. She's probably upset and hurt by his words, so you need to grow a set and get your arse home to her."

I'd been somewhat shocked at his words – my friend's usual immaturity had been nowhere to be seen - but heeded them nonetheless, and was now psyching myself up to go to her. My mind was spinning, working at full speed, the way it always did when I had a problem I wasn't sure how to solve. But over thinking it wasn't helping.

It was, as Blaise had said, a matter of growing a set and going to her.

But, maybe I could have some fun with her. Make her think I was pissed at her, get her angry with me. And angry was state that I loved her in.

I grinned and shoved the door to the cottage open, and slammed it closed behind me. Her head snapped up at the sound and she looked startled.

"What that fuck was that Granger?"

"Excuse me?" She crossed the room to stand in front of me, looking indignant.

"That stunt you pulled this afternoon?" I stepped closer, subtly angling her towards the wall, and she took a step back, "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"You don't need to deal with someone like him. I've already set up a meeting with Drella on Monday morning."

"Interesting," I drawled, "I wasn't aware our company was called  _Granger Potions."_

"Maybe it should be." She shot back.

"You don't get to make decisions like that," I took another step closer and without realising how close she was, she took another step away from me and backed into the wall. I crowded her, placing my hands either side of her head and smiled. "Or was that your plan all along Granger? To seduce me and then take over my company?"

She narrowed her eyes at me and shoved her hand into my chest, "You're an arse Malfoy."

"You keep saying that," I nuzzled her neck and brought my hand up her ribs, grazing the side of her breast and cupping her jaw, "And yet, your actions prove otherwise."

She gripped the back of my hair and wrenched my head back, "Don't get any ideas, mister." Her threat was empty, and she knew it.

"Too late," I smirked at her and apparated us to her bedroom.

* * *

 

The room was dark except for the silvery light coming in the window from the full moon. Hermione's head was resting on my chest, her scent was all over me, seared into both my skin and my senses. She wasn't asleep; her fingers brushing in a feather-like tease over my cock let me know that.

I stole a glance at the clock; little more than an hour had passed since I had fucked her into the mattress. I had become so enamoured with her keening cries and gasping breaths when she climaxed, I was ready to hear those sounds again.

I kissed her forehead, and she smiled up at me and whispered a quiet  _Hey._

"Hey there," I said equally as quiet, "What are you up to?"

She gave me a gentle squeeze, "I think your cock is my most favourite thing."

I chuckled and tilted her chin up, covering her mouth with mine. Her hand paused when my tongue slipped between her lips and  _fuck me,_ if she didn't reach down and cup my balls. Her fingers teased me, rubbing and rolling, tugging gently and I let out a shaky exhale. I wasn't sure that I had ever felt anything as perfect as her hand on me.

I reached behind her head, tangling my fingers in the mess of her hair and tilted her head back, giving me deeper access to her mouth. I felt her smile as I sucked her tongue into my mouth and she ground her hips into my side. I brought my other hand up to her jaw, holding her in place while I kissed her; a torturously slow kiss that had her grinding harder against my hip leaving the evidence of her arousal on my skin.

She rolled off me and lay on her back, beckoning me over her. I smiled and shook my head, "No. I want you on your knees."

A slow smile spread across her face and she sat up, turning over and positioning herself on her hands and knees, presenting herself to me. She peered over her shoulder at me, lifting an eyebrow and watching my hand as I stroked it over my pulsating cock, and I didn't think she had a clue as to just how incredibly sexy she was.

I wanted to shove into her there and then, wanted to fuck her hard and fast, but as wet as she was, I wanted her wetter. I ran a hand along her spine, and pressed gently when I reached the place between her shoulder blades, and she immediately lowered her chest to the bed.

I sucked in a breath. I didn't think I would ever get used to this; her arse in the air, her bare pussy glistening with the beginnings of her arousal, and on display just for me.

I ran my fingers along the backs of her thighs, drawing goose bumps along her flesh and then squeezed her cheeks, digging my fingers into her flesh, before lowering my mouth and biting down gently. She let out a deep groan as I repeated the motion, nipping and biting at her perfect arse.

I heard her sigh when my mouth went lower still and my tongue slipped out and licked a trail from her opening to her clit. I groaned, unable to hold the sound in. If she was my last meal, I would die a happy man.

Slowly, I slid my tongue down the centre of her slick folds, flicking over her clit while I continued to massage her arse with one hand and reached beneath her with the other to pinch her nipple.

She cried out, her voice full of frustration, "Draco,  _please."_

"Not yet," I murmured, "You're not ready for me."

She growled and shoved her hips back against my face, "Yes. I. Am."

I chuckled and pulled my mouth away from her, earning myself another frustrated growl. I kissed the base of her spine and pressed my finger against her clit, slowly applying more pressure and making her buck against me, cursing and threatening parts of my anatomy that I was quite fond of. I shifted my finger from her clit and slowly circled her entrance until her threats sounded somewhat serious and I finally pushed two fingers into her tight passage, watching as they disappeared inside her.

I moved my fingers at a steady pace, feeling the wetness build, and I bit down on my lip, wondering. I flicked my gaze up to her; her head was tilted sideways on the pillow, her eyes closed. I took a breath – it was something that we hadn't even talked about, something I didn't know if she even wanted - and slipped my thumb through the crevice between her arse cheeks and pressed gently on the tight pink ring of her anus.

Her eyes flew open, and she lifted her head to look at me. I paused, waiting for her to tell me no, but she simply stared at me; her eyes wide, her lip caught between her teeth. I smiled at her, and pulled my hand away from her, laughing lightly at the small whimper at the lost of my touch.

"Patience, my sweet," I told her and dipped my thumb into the wet heat of her pussy, coating it with her own juices, before plunging my fingers back into her and resting my slicked thumb back between her cheeks.

A surprised gasp left her and she clenched around my thumb as I slowly, slowly, eased it past the tight ring of muscle. Her pelvis tilted forward, a slight movement, barely noticeable; not trying to escape me, but shifting from a foreign feeling. Her breathing increased, she had clearly not been touched like this. Truthfully,  _I'd_ never touched anyone like this.

"Hermione?" I whispered as I stilled both my fingers and my thumb, and she looked directly at me. A smile slowly crossed her face and she closed her eyes, relaxing completely and silently telling me she was perfectly okay with what my fingers were doing.

I took my time, fucking her slowly with my fingers, and feeling the coil inside my belly tighten as she whimpered and moaned. She rocked in time with my fingers and I felt her passage clench and the muscles surrounding my thumb pulsed with her approaching orgasm. I reached my free hand around her, pressing down on her clit as she cried out my name, bucking hard, her entire body convulsing.

Her skin was flushed and she was breathing hard, and I gently moved my fingers again inside her. She relaxed and began rocking against me, and I knew she could come again. I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her hips in place and I gently pulled my thumb out of her backside. She let out a shaky breath as I twisted my wrist and curled my fingers against that elusive spot inside her.

" _Oh,"_ she gasped as I brushed against the front wall of her pussy, over and over, watching as a flush of red washed over her skin once more and she broke apart again.

I slowly withdrew my fingers as she came down from her high. Her skin was warm, damp with sweat and I leaned down to drop tiny wet kisses along her spine.

"Shit," she groaned and then laughed, "That was...unexpected."

I laughed with her, "And that was just the warm up."

She grinned back over her shoulder at me and shifted, spreading her legs wider. I gripped her hips and lined myself up, pausing momentarily to shoot her a wicked grin.

She dragged her lower lip between her teeth before telling me, "Fuck me Draco."

I pinched her hip and sank into her with ease, both of us groaning as my pelvis came to rest against her arse. I leaned forward, kissing the middle of her back, shifting my hands from her hips and up her sides to cup her tits. I rolled her nipples between my fingers and her head lolled forward. She moaned loudly, and I clenched my stomach, the sound was rough and guttural, and unlike anything I had ever imagined coming from her.

I looked down and watched my cock slide in and out of her, she was warm and slick and I was covered with her.

"Draco, fuck!" she cried out and I gripped her hips tighter as she grasped at the sheets. "Harder!"

I pounded into her and she matched my rhythm, slamming back against me with each thrust of my hips.

"Touch yourself, Hermione." I commanded and watched as she reached down, her fingers brushing against my cock as it slid in and out of her. I paused my movements, and she flinched, but didn't protest when my hand landed with a loud  _smack_ on her bare arse cheek. "I said touch yourself, Hermione, not me."

She reached lower and grabbed my balls, and I groaned. "You'll pay for that," I growled and landed another hard smack on her arse. And  _Merlin help me,_ she actually laughed and squeezed my balls harder.

I smirked and landed yet another smack on her arse before smoothing my palm over the bright pink mark that now bloomed there. Her hand released me and I smiled.

"Are you touching yourself?"

She nodded and squeezed her inner muscles around me. I smacked my hand on her arse once more for good measure and pushed deeper into her, gripping her hips tighter, urging her back onto my cock. Her breaths grew faster and her body began to shudder as her orgasm overtook her. I moved faster, harder, feeling the clenching and unclenching of her pussy as she fell apart.

I felt her body tense and her breath caught as she tried to pull away. I held her tighter and pumped harder, "No," I said harshly, "One more. Give it to me."

"I can't...too much... _Oh!.._ coming...oh, fuck!" She pressed her face into the pillow and her garbled cry was muffled as she tightened around my cock.

Sweat dripped from my forehead and landed on her own flushed skin, and the sense that she was mine, that Hermione Granger was mine and always would be mine, overwhelmed me. My own orgasm barrelled down my spine and I saw stars as I pushed into her one last time, coming hard inside her.

Her hips dropped to the mattress and I collapsed onto her back. She reached her arm around, digging her fingers into my side and my name dropped from her mouth on a sigh of breath.

I kissed her shoulder, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She breathed, "I'm okay. You?"

I laughed and rolled off her, pulling her back against my chest, "Yeah. I've never been more okay in my life."

 


	17. Chapter 17

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I headed for Draco's office. I'd not seen him since we'd parted at the elevator that morning and was now looking forward to leaving and spending the weekend with him.

Just the two of us.

Quiet. Alone. Preferably naked.

But the confused look on Draco's assistants' face stopped me in my tracks.

"Erica?" I said slowly, "What is it?"

"Ah, he's not here." She told me, "He left around lunch time. He didn't tell you?"

"No," I shook my head and frowned, trying to remember if he told me that he was out for the afternoon. I was positive he wasn't, but that didn't mean something hadn't come up last minute. "Did he have a meeting?"

"No. He told me he was leaving for the day and wouldn't be back." She hesitated, "He didn't look pleased when he left."

My stomach tightened, and a wave of panic shot through me, and I saw the same worry I felt reflected in Erica's face. She had commented to me several times in the last two months about how much calmer he was, how his temper rarely flared up, and how lovely it was to see his smile more often than not.

But our meeting with Demetrius two weeks ago had not gone well, and even thought The Ministry were investigating him, I knew that he had tried to contact Draco almost every day since. And while Draco was pleased that he no longer had to deal him, the constant barrage of owls had made his fuse short and his temper flare.

"Demetrius?" I asked and she shook her head.

"I honestly have no idea." She scanned the papers on her desk, "Nothing came past me, but he does receive his own personal post occasionally."

"Thanks Erica. I'll assume he's at home."

"Hermione?" Erica said and reached for my hand as I turned to leave, "He has a tough exterior, but his father left him with some deep wounds that have yet to heal."

"I know," I said with a sigh and thanked her for her concern.

"He needs you as much as you need him," she gave my hand a tight squeeze, "Remember that."

"I will," I said and headed back down the hallway.

I didn't use the floo, instead I apparated to the deck of his house. I wasn't sure what I would be apparating into, so I thought it safer to land outside. I peered in the window and saw nothing. He wasn't there and everything was in its place.

I opened the door, and the normally slow and melodic music I had become accustomed to was a far cry from the frantic strains of an angry piano concerto that were pouring down the stairs. The music was dark and tempestuous, and I could almost hear his fingers slamming against the keys as he thumped out the chords.

He was angry, clearly, but no one it seemed had any idea as to why. Pansy and Blaise were as astounded as I when they learned he had disappeared without a word. Both had offered to come with me when I left, but I had refused, telling them that I was sure that he'd had enough of Demetrius' hounding, and was most likely just running off some steam.

But upon hearing the angry music, I knew it was more than just Demetrius,  _but what?_

His father was in jail, and even if Lucius was able to somehow communicate with him, Draco would simply ignore him since he refused to acknowledge that his father even existed.

And he had mentioned that his mother had relocated to Spain after the spotlight had become too great. He had told me that as much as I hated the attention, it was ten-fold for his mother.  _Yes,_ he had said, she had definitely warranted the notoriety that the Malfoy name brought, but even with Harry's word that she had helped save his life, she was still looked upon as suspicious. And as soon as her probation was up, she moved away. So it was rare that she got to see him and I doubted she had stirred up any trouble.

I noticed a balled-up piece of parchment on the kitchen counter, and my fingers itched to unfurl it and find out what had upset him, but it wasn't my place and I certainly didn't need to anger him any more than he already was.

He had become calm and gentle, so much more than I had ever expected him to be. He was patient, he made me talk to him and in return he listened. And the dominant side of him that I hated at school was now one of the things I most loved about him, and quite often I had found myself smiling during the day at something he had growled in my ear the previous night or the gentle kiss on my shoulder as we showered together before work.

He had been a revelation, and not only in the bedroom. He didn't care if I rambled incessantly for an hour about the magical properties of this plant or that, or about the new plants that were sprouting in the greenhouses, or even if I spent an entire Sunday with my nose in a book and took no notice of him. He was just happy to be near me, to have me in his house, or to be in mine.

And quite often he would simply place his hand on my shoulder, or kiss my cheek in passing, or fall asleep with his head in my lap while I read. And the more I was with him, the more I wanted to be with him.

I crossed to the fridge and reaching in to pluck out the bottle of wine, but pulled my hand back. Erica had told me that he'd left around lunch, and going by the angry sounds of the piano, I could safely assume that a considerable amount of scotch had probably been drunk. Coffee was mostly likely in order.

The music stopped abruptly as I pressed the button on the machine. A long silence followed and I took two steps towards the stairs. The lid of the piano slammed shut and a smashing sound stopped me in my tracks. I winced at the loud, feral roar that followed and retreated back to the couch, sitting on the armrest and waiting for him.

The minutes ticked by and I found myself wondering if I should go up to him, or at the very least call out and let him know that I was there. His temper and sullen moods were nothing new, I had dealt with those for years, but this was something completely different, and honestly I had no idea how to comfort him, or if he even wanted me to.

I waited, watching the stairs, and the silence stretched on, until finally I heard his footsteps. I took a deep breath and steadied my heartbeat. He stopped on the landing when he saw me, his face angry, his eyes on fire.

"Hey," I said and gave him a sympathetic smile. "What happened?"

His jaw tightened, ignoring my question and he simply stared at me, the half-empty bottle in his hand answering the question of what had smashed. He had clearly thrown the glass and was coming down to get another. He slowly descended the remaining stairs, depositing the bottle on the bottom step. But before I could say another word he was in front of me, grabbing my face and kissing me hard. I gripped the back of the couch to stop myself from toppling backwards, my surprised yelp disappearing into his mouth. He'd wrenched my jacket down my arms and pulled my shirt from my pants before I pushed at his chest, stopping him.

"Draco, what's going on?" I asked, taking in his fiery expression. "Talk to me."

"Nothing, I'm fine." He grabbed my shirt and tore it apart, the buttons flying across the room and making me gasp in shock.

"Stop!" I slapped his hands away as he reached for my breasts, "You're not fine. I more than happy to be a distraction, but something's wrong, and you need to tell me what it is."

"Fuck, Hermione!" His eyes flashed with pure anger and I took a step away from him, "I don't want to fucking talk about it. What I want is you naked with my cock buried inside you!"

"No. You're not fucking coming near me when you're like this. If you think sex solves everything, then you're sorely mistaken. You tell me all the time 'talk to me,' well, it works both ways." I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

"I don't need to talk about it." He let out a frustrated growl, "That's your thing, you talk I listen. Me? I fuck. And that's what I want to do right now."

He took a step towards me, and I took a corresponding one back. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he wasn't  _that_ person, but the anger in his face had me flexing my fingers.

He glared at me, at my flexing fingers, and turned around, grabbing the bottle he'd left on the stairs and stormed into the kitchen.

"So, what, you're going to drink yourself into oblivion?"

"Well, you won't fuck me into oblivion, so yeah," He filled a glass and drank half in one swallow, "I'll write myself off, and then I won't be able to fucking talk!"

"Draco—"

"Just stop Hermione," He snarled, "I'm not a problem you have to solve. As you keep saying, I'm an arse, and as usual you're right."

"Draco, please, just tell me."

He ignored me, downing the rest of his drink and pouring another.

I tried, but failed, to hold in a frustrated breath, "You're angry, I get that. But I've done nothing wrong and I won't let you take whatever is that has pissed you off out on me. I thought you were better than this, that you had changed, but obviously I was wrong. It's okay to be angry, but it's not okay to be a complete arsehole."

He flinched and opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off.

"You told me that you want to be with me, that you're all in, but clearly that's not the case. Because  _all in_ means sharing, sharing everything. It's me telling you how I feel, and you telling me the same. It doesn't mean having someone to fuck just to feel better. I've already had someone who went and did that, I don't need it from you."

I walked towards the door, and then stopped as my hand reached for the handle. Erica's words were loud in my head:  _his wounds have not healed; he needs you as much as you need him._ My stomach clenched. He was nothing like Ron, and while I had no idea why he was pissed off, I was out of line telling him he was.

I turned back to him and his devastation hit me like punch to the chest. He was staring at me, his shoulders slumped, his eyes dark and heavy. I hated seeing him stressed and angry and just seeing him standing there looking lost, and scared that I would walk out the door and not return, nearly broke my heart.

I crossed back to him and wrapped him in my arms, pressing my lips over his heart, "Sorry."

He didn't react, just stood frozen in my arms, and I hated myself for hurting him. He'd been nothing but perfect, listening to me, asking how I felt, if I was okay. But at the first sign of his temper, of him being anything less than what I had expected, I insulted him and turned away.

I pulled back, gripping his hips and searching his face. He just stared blankly back at me, closed off completely. I lifted my hand to his cheek and he winced away at my touch.

"Draco, that was out of line and I'm sorry."

He remained silent and I stepped back, pulling my ripped shirt over my chest. "Draco . . ." I tried again, but my words fell away and I looked down at my feet.

"My father sent that." He said quietly and I looked up. His fists were clenched at his sides and he was looking towards the counter.

I watched, waiting, letting him decide if he wanted to tell me more. But those simple words explained everything. Demetrius had somehow managed to get to Lucius and Lucius had somehow managed to get an owl to his son.

"My father is disgusted with me," He said, his voice shaking slightly, "He considers me to be disloyal and to be a traitor."

I stepped forward and lightly touched his arm, "Draco, I'm so sorry."

"He said that I had sullied the Malfoy name by hiring you." His eyes finally met mine. "He said that you're not worthy of any of the recognition that you get and that you deserved what happened to you. And unless I disassociate myself with you, I will no longer be considered his son, nor a Malfoy."

I let this sink in for a minute and then tried to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. A hot wave of shame washed over me; he wasn't angry at his father for contacting him, he was angry at his father for what he had said about me.

I wrapped my arms around him, and this time he did the same.

"Sorry I ripped your shirt." He said and I let out a small laugh.

"I don't think that's too much of an issue." I assured him, "Thank you for being angry for me."

He kissed the top of my head and pulled me tighter against him, "He's still trying to control me. Even after what he said at his trial, he still thinks I should be loyal to him. The man knows no shame."

"How did he get that to you?" A though occurred to me and I lifted my head to look at him, " _Was_ it him?"

Draco frowned at me and then his eyes went wide, "Demetrius?"

I shrugged, "Maybe."

There was virtually no way that Lucius would be able to get a letter to anyone outside the prison, no matter how shady his contacts were. And after a visit from The Ministry in the days that followed my dismissal of him, Demetrius had all but lost his business and was under the watch of the Aurors Office. He was clearly out for some payback, but he clearly didn't know Draco at all.

Draco despised his father and if this was Demetrius' doing, his choice to use me as a way to try to get to him was a big mistake. Draco's reaction was enough to let me know that I was in safe hands with him. And after my deplorable reaction, he deserved to know the truth.

I glanced over at the paper on the counter, "Draco, I'll give that to Harry. He can find out if it was Lucius. And if it wasn't, I'm sure he'll find a way to lock up Demetrius." I smiled up at him, "If that's okay."

He followed my gaze, "Potter would do that?"

"Of course."

He tipped his head forward and leaned his forehead on mine. "I'm an arse."

"No, actually you're not." I smoothed my hand down his chest, "You were angry on my behalf and I reverted to my teenage self and assumed the worst of you."

"I scared you, so I think you had every right to assume the worst." His eyes dropped to my shirt, "And you need to change your clothes."

I shook my head, "No, I think I need a bath."

He nodded, "And I have a mess to clean up while you do."

"Oh," I tamped down my disappointment. I never usually had to encourage him to join me. "It's a pretty big bath for just one."

"Are you sure?" he looked doubtful, but I wanted him with me.

"Draco, you've done nothing wrong here," I lifted his hand and kissed his palm, "I'm the arse this time. Please join me?"

* * *

 

"Talk to me," I said and he laughed and shook his head.

"Works both ways, yeah?"

I poked his hip with my toe and he grabbed my foot, holding it against him. We were sat at opposite ends of the bath, our legs tangled, our eyes locked. The quiet wasn't awkward, but it was unusual.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"About your father," I said, "About why you were so angry."

He drummed his fingers on the side of the tub and looked thoughtfully at me. "So the deep stuff then?"

"Please?"

I watched as his eyes dipped to the water and he took a deep breath.

"My father was my idol," He barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself. "He was everything that I was told a good wizard should be. A pureblood, from a long line of purebloods; wealthy; powerful; cunning; shrewd."

I found his foot under the water and squeezed it.

"I wanted to be exactly like him, I wanted to be the man that everyone knew, I wanted that air of nobility, I wanted to have people fearful if me," He paused and looked directly at me, "And then I didn't."

"What happened?"

"I was obedient. I excelled at school. I did everything that was expected of me, and it was never good enough. Every time I lost at Quidditch, every time I came second in class, every time I didn't meet his expectations, I was berated and told that I hardly deserved to be in Slytherin, hardly deserved to be a Malfoy."

"Draco," I whispered.

"He then started caring more about his associates than he did about his wife and son. And the expectations that he had of me became impossible. I was seventeen and I was expected to become a Death Eater. I was expected to do the bidding of The Dark Lord. And I was expected to do it without question or resistance. I learned very quickly that I was simply a pawn in his game. That by using me to do the dirty work, he would have a place beside Voldemort and that was all he wanted. So I stopped trying to impress him."

He drew a circle on the top of my foot with his thumb. "My mother made a deal for my life. She put my safety before hers, she always has, but my father," His face twisted, as if he had tasted something sour, " _My father._ My father's priority was always himself."

"But you always..." I stopped, not sure how to word my question without sounding rude.

His eyes widened, questioning, "I always..?"

"You never seemed to want for anything."

"Material things, no. I was definitely spoiled in that sense." He smoothed his hand along my calf, "But love and respect? He could barely be bothered with me."

"I don't think he hated you."

"I was only useful when it suited his needs, otherwise I think I was just an inconvenience."

"Explains why you were so angry all the time." I mimicked his hand on my leg, sliding my own up and back down his calf and squeezing his foot. "You didn't deserve that."

"I learned to live with it. He didn't exactly neglect me, but I know I meant virtually nothing to him. I was simply a means to an end." He huffed out a huge breath of air, as if a weight had finally been lifted from his chest. "I guess towards the end of it all, I had no feelings for him either. He paid for everything I needed, and in return I did only what was expected of me. I limited my contact with him as much as possible to retain as much sanity as I could."

"So him trying to blame you and your mother was nothing new for either of you?"

"Exactly." He nodded, "Everyone assumed that I was devastated, and I guess to some degree I was, but only because I knew for sure that I was right about him. But I finally felt a sense of relief. I didn't have to do his bidding, I didn't have to make appearances just to keep the Malfoy name prominent, and I no longer had to pretend that he was important to me."

"And that was your reason for such a drastic change? You didn't want to be like him?"

"That was part of it."

"And the rest?"

He smiled at me, "There was a witch at school who proved everything he said wrong."

I leaned forward, sliding through the water, wrapping my arms around his neck and settling over his hips. "Ooh, was she pretty?"

"Stunning"

"Was she smart?"

"Absolutely brilliant."

I kissed his neck, "Did she get you all hot and bothered?"

"Constantly."

I laughed, "Do you feel better?"

"I do. Thank you."

I looked up at him, "I had a thought."

His hands curved around my hips, "Do tell."

"Well, The Ministry Ball is less than a month away, and we were both invited, maybe that could be our big coming out."

"Are you ready for that kind of publicity?"

"I am," I said, "Florence was amazing, and I want to do more of that with you. I don't want to hide anymore."

"Okay then," he squeezed my hips and winked, "We'll put on a show that'll have them talking for weeks."

I leaned in and kissed him, grinding my hips over him. He gripped me harder, stopping me.

"Draco?"

"Not tonight."

I frowned. Clearly he was ready, he'd been constantly growing harder since I straddled his lap. "Why—" I stopped. He looked away from me, his jaw clenched, his cheeks pink.

"Hey," I said quietly and brought his face back to mine, "I know you didn't mean it."

"I still said it," he held up his hand, "And don't say it's okay, because it's  _not_ okay."

"We always have angry sex," I kissed him but he shook his head.

"We tease and we taunt, we  _never_ have angry sex." He looked at me with apologetic eyes, "And I should never have forced myself on you."

"You didn't, not really," I smiled at him and ran my knuckles across his jaw, "I would have stopped you if you did."

He sat up, his arms still surrounding my hips, "I know, but please just let me be the good guy tonight? Let me prove that sex isn't everything."

I nodded, understanding his need to prove that he wasn't the arsehole I accused him of being. I slicked my fingers through his wet hair, "Did you eat yet?

"No," he grimaced, "I just drank scotch."

I stood and let the water drip from me, before stepping out of the tub. His eyes roamed over me and I grinned, "Did you change your mind?"

He swallowed and shook his head, "No. But you've got this teasing thing perfected."

 


	18. Chapter 18

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

I looked in the mirror and smiled. The face that peered back at me was my own, but my eyes were brighter, more vibrant than I had ever noticed them before. My cheeks were flushed with the excitement of the evening to come, and for the first time in a long time, I felt alive, felt like I had finally stepped out of my own shadow, that I had become the person – the woman – I truly believed I was.

It was my chance to hold my head high and take all the expectations the world had of me, and toss them aside. It was my chance to shine.

I took a step back and took in the full image. My dress was much more daring than I would have ever worn previously. It was a deep plum coloured halter neck evening gown with a plunging V neckline, that showed more than enough cleavage to put Draco in a spin, as would the high split in the skirt. It was backless – save for the thin, ribbon-like straps that criss-crossed just below my shoulder blades - and it dipped low along the curve of my hips; so low that I was sure that if I bent over too far, my arse would be on display for the world to see.

I took a deep breath, not allowing any nerves to get the better of me and change into something less revealing. I looked good, I knew I did, and it was time to see if my friends agreed.

I headed for the stairs, my heels clicking on the polished wood as I slowly descended, and the looks on my three friend's faces as I entered the living room let me know that my dress had the desired effect.

"Merlin's fucking balls!" Pansy said.

"I would have to agree," Ginny said with a slow nod and a sly grin, "It's about time you showed off those curves."

Harry stepped up in front of me and took both my hands in his, "I think what they're both trying to say is that you look amazing."

I glanced over his shoulder at the pair of them, and then smiled at Harry, "Thank you, Harry."

After Draco and I agreed to arrive separately, I had decided to make an entrance. I had kept my dress search quiet, telling both Pansy and Ginny that I was still looking even though it had been hanging in my closet for weeks. I had wanted to see the exact reaction that I got, just to make sure that my instincts were right; that Draco's jaw would hit the floor when I walked in.

"I like this new version of you," Ginny said clapping her hands together lightly, "Heads will be turning tonight."

A loud tapping noise sounded on the window and I frowned. I looked at Harry, "Is that here for you?"

He squinted at it and shook his head, "No. I don't recognise it."

I walked to the window and pushed it open. I assumed it was from the Aurors office since I didn't recognise it either. The owl hooted at me and nipped at my hand. Apparently it  _was_  here for me. I took the small piece of parchment from the loop on its foot and unrolled it. And I had to bite my lip to stop the smile.

_Damn him!_

The note was explicit -  _very_ explicit - telling me exactly what he planned on doing to me after the ball. And he planned to do it to me in his bed – very loudly. I felt my cheeks heat up and I heard a throat clearing behind me. I turned to face them; Harry was looking at me in puzzlement, Pansy and Ginny were grinning at me.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked.

"Fine," I squeaked, then cleared my throat and repeated, "Fine."

"I'll bet it is," Ginny said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Harry looked between us and then turned his nose up, "I don't really want to know, do I?"

"No," I said, shaking my head, "Probably best if you don't."

He shuddered comically and shook his head, "Can you three please keep the innuendo amongst yourselves? I don't need any pictures of Draco Malfoy...like that...in my head."

"So he's not your man-crush then?" Pansy asked, her voice a little too innocent for the amused expression on her face.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, "Parkinson, seriously? No!" He twirled his finger in the air, "Change the conversation please."

"Oh, come on Potter, look how happy she is." Pansy chortled as he put his fingers in his ears and shook his head.

I touched Harry's shoulder and smiled at him. "Sorry, we'll keep the girl talk to a minimum." I looked at my three friends, and a let out a slow breath, "Everyone will know. After tonight,  _everyone_  will know."

Ginny hugged my shoulders, "And we'll be right beside you when they do."

I smiled at her, "You couldn't announce your news tomorrow, could you? Take the heat off us a bit?"

"No way sister." She grinned and rubbed her still flat belly, "This news stays secret for as long as possible."

Pansy hugged me from the other side, "You'll be fine. They have no idea where you live, so they can only hound you at work, and there's no way Alexis will let anyone near you. Nor will Draco."

"I know, but this is big."

"And you will handle it. And so will he." Harry smiled at my surprised expression. "You told me he'd changed, and I've seen it. And like Parkinson said, he won't let anyone near you." He shrugged, "What can I say? I don't hate the guy."

I wrapped my arms around him, "Thank you Harry."

"Well then," He said, "Now that all the sappy stuff is out of the way, let's get moving."

* * *

 

We arrived at The Ministry, apparating into the entrance hall that had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Harry and Ginny took the lead, with Pansy and I following closely behind, climbing up the marble staircase that led toward the Grand Ballroom which was already packed.

Trays of drinks floated in the air, and tables laden with food sat to one side of the room. The roof was covered in twinkling stars and snow was falling, melting away before it touched the heads of the guests. Quiet music played in the background, dinner music, filling the air until  _The Weird Sisters,_ who had reformed after a nasty band break up, would begin playing later in the evening.

I smiled. It had been so long since I had been to a Ministry Ball; I had forgotten how perfect they were.

The crowd almost parted for us – Harry was still the boy who lived, after all – and everyone glanced in our direction, their faces in awe as we went by. Pansy snorted a laugh and I couldn't help but smirk. She had been friends with us for some time now, but it still amused her to no end that Harry was still able to turn heads wherever he went.

"Funny," Pansy whispered, "It's usually Harry that they all look at."

I looked quizzically at her, "Huh?"

She laughed, "Harry isn't the centre of attention tonight. That dress was an excellent choice."

Ginny looked back and me and nodded, "She's right. A certain blonde is gonna go ape-shit when he sees you, you know?"

I couldn't have stopped the smile that crossed my face if I tried and Pansy chuckled from beside me. But I cared little for the stares that I was getting as we moved deeper into the ballroom, my only care was Draco. I flicked my eyes around the room, trying to spot him but I couldn't see him anywhere. But I expected that he was hiding in the shadows, watching me closely.

"Holy shit, Hermione." Alicia Spinnet said from behind me, "Did someone have to paint that dress on you?"

I laughed, "It certainly feels like it."

"I might have to start a pool as to which one of these losers hits on you first."

Pansy snorted a laugh, "I might have to get in on that."

I shook my head, but laughed.

And then my breath caught.

He was watching me.  _No._  He was gawking at me. His eyes were wide, his drink frozen halfway to his mouth, his jaw almost on the floor. And it took everything I had to not show any emotion, because he was dressed in a way that had me wanting to undress him immediately.

His black tuxedo fitted him perfectly; his robes were draped casually around his shoulders, and I could barely tear my eyes away from his face. His eyes were burning into mine, and the jaw that was almost on the floor had slowly closed and his mouth was turned up into a smirk. And the bastard hadn't shaved. I could see the hint of stubble on his jaw even from my position across the room and my thighs ached to feel the roughness brushing against them. He was everything every woman in the ballroom would want; blonde hair, piercing eyes, the broody, sullen, no-care attitude. He was the total package.

And he was mine.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from him and grabbed a glass of champagne from a floating tray. I swallowed half of it in one go, which had Alicia lifting her brows at me.

"You alright?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Just nervous about whom I might bump into."

"Oh," She said with a knowing nod, "He'll be sorry when he sees you."

"I didn't do this for  _him_...but I hope so," I said with a smirk, knowing that Alicia was right. Ron would fall over his own tongue when he saw me, but he wouldn't get within ten feet of me. Draco would be watching my every move until he decided it was time to reveal our little secret.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I flinched. A low voice whispered against my ear, "Hello gorgeous."

I looked back over my shoulder and smiled, relieved.

"Calm down Granger," Blaise's smooth voice said close to my ear, "I just wanted to tell you that your arse looks fantastic in that dress."

I turned to face him "I'm glad you approve." His eyes dropped to my chest and I laughed, "So not just my arse then?"

"Shit Granger. If you weren't already-" his eyes darted over my shoulder and I knew that Alicia was watching our exchange with interest, "That is to say, if you weren't on the rebound, I might think you worthy of my attention."

"Oh," I sung in a high pitched girly voice, "Blaise Zabini, don't tease me. My poor heart can't take it."

Blaise laughed and leaned in close to me, "I mean it; you're the most gorgeous woman in the room and that bastard is the luckiest man alive."

* * *

 

"Seriously Weasley. How much of an idiot are you? What the hell were you thinking when you gave up Granger's pussy?"

We were headed for the bathrooms when the voice stopped me short. Pansy yelped, almost crashing into me.

"Granger. What the-"

I hissed at her to be quiet and she frowned at me, before her eyes went wide when she heard the familiar voice. Her head whipped around and followed my line of sight. He was standing just a few feet away with his back to me and hadn't realised I was there.

"Pfft. She's like that  _because_  of me." Ron said with a chuckle. A chuckle I knew all too well – he was embarrassed and trying to hide the fact that he was a total fool. "She used to be a prudish book worm. Never wanted to do anything adventurous, if you know what I mean. But once I showed her a thing or two, she couldn't get enough of me. She practically begged me constantly for it. I brought her out of her shell. What you're seeing is all my doing."

"Yeah, but you still gave her up." One of the men standing beside him laughed, "You really are an idiot."

He coughed and spluttered, "Well, um, yeah. She was too much work. I shouldn't have to try so hard to get a decent fuck. And there was always that  _one thing_  she refused to do."

The two men guffawed and slapped his back and told him he must have really dodged a bullet.

I had expected him to be here, had prepared myself for it, but preparing my mind and seeing him in the flesh were two completely opposite things. The last time I'd seen him, he was grovelling for me to forgive him, begging me not to leave. And now, here he was, bragging about how I was the frigid one, how I was the prude, how I was the one who didn't want to try  _that one thing_ , when it was all him. The only begging I had ever done was to beg him to fuck me somewhere other than our bed.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. Pansy took a step forward and I grabbed her wrist, looking at her. Her jaw was clenched and she looked ready to start swinging

"Don't," I said quietly, "He's not worth it."

And then I almost changed my mind.

A blonde woman, who was more out of her dress than in it, crossed over to them – a fake smile plastered on her fake face, but at least it matched her fake boobs – and I felt my blood boil. It was her. The one I would forever remember. The one whose head was dangling over the edge of his desk. I wanted to walk over there and slap the fake smile off her stupid fake face.

I pressed my fingernails into my palms as she slipped an arm across his shoulders and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and pinched her arse, and I felt my stomach churn. That was yet another thing he wouldn't do to me in public...or, for that matter, in private.

"Is that her?" Pansy whispered and I nodded, "Well, she's very...fake. Perfect for him really."

I smiled at her attempt to make light of the situation. But suddenly the room felt tiny and I couldn't breathe.

"I need air." I said and let Pansy lead me away.

After several twists and turns around corners and down hallways, we finally stopped in a vacant alcove and I leaned heavily against the wall. Pansy stood in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest, seething.

"I could kill him, you know." She said through clenched teeth, "I could kill him and no one would even know."

I closed my eyes. The room had begun to spin and I could feel tears threatening to fall. I gulped in air, trying to calm myself. I didn't want to cry, not over him. But hearing him talk like that...I was in his office all over again, seeing him and her.

But this time the tears that were brimming were not the same tears I had cried all those months ago. No. These weren't tears of distress; these were tears of anger.

_How dare he._

How dare he say those things. How dare he paint me in that light. He was the arse, not me. He was the lying, cheating bastard, not me. He was the prude. He was the one who was lousy in bed. He was the one who grovelled at my feet, telling me that the very woman whose arse he was pinching was nothing more than an easy fuck.

And the urge to go back and confront him had me hugging my arms across my chest in an attempt to halt myself from storming back to the ballroom and beating the truth out of him.

I felt Pansy's hand rubbing up and down my arm, and as much as I loved Ginny, I was glad it was Pansy who witnessed it. Ginny would have made a scene, would have drawn attention with her temper and I didn't need that. Not where Ron was concerned in any case.

"Hermione?"

I opened my eyes and there he was.

Draco was staring at me with a look in his eyes unlike anything I'd seen. He looked both terrified and furious at seeing me in the state I was in. His robes were gone and standing at the end of the hall, his eyes on fire, and in the elegance of his perfectly tailored black tuxedo he looked as sexy as sin.

He strode towards me, his eyes never leaving mine, and Pansy stepped aside. His hand touched my shoulder, "Hermione, what's happened?"

The words stuck in my throat and a single tear ran down my cheek. I looked at Pansy.

"That fucker," She growled, "Apparently he was the sex god, not our girl here, and the uncouth git is in there spreading lies."

Draco's nostrils flared and his eyes turned to ice. He looked at Pansy, "Stay with her."

He stepped away but I stopped him, "Draco. No. Please don't."

"Hermione," He said attempting to keep his voice calm, "He won't say those things, not about you. I won't allow it."

I smiled at his possessiveness, "Thank you. But I mean it, don't bother with him. He's just a pathetic coward and not worth any of your time."

"Do you want to leave?" He asked caressing my cheek, brushing away the tears.

I did. I wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. "Yes," I said, "But no."

Confusion crossed his face, "Yes, but no?"

I took his hand in mine, "I want to leave. I don't want to look at him, I don't want to see him. But I want him to see me. I want him to see us."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely." I said and an instant wave of calmness washed over me. I  _was_  sure. And I didn't just want Ron to see us. I wanted everyone to.

"So what's the plan?" Pansy asked and then looked surprised when I said Draco was going to invite me to dance with him.

"Draco doesn't dance," She said turning to face him.

"For the right woman I do." He told her.

"Perfect," Pansy said and grabbed my hand and started dragging me down the hall towards the bathroom. "We just need to tidy you up a bit."

* * *

 

I hadn't been a total disaster; waterproof make-up had saved me from a complete re-do. But my cheeks had been pink and flushed, and my hair had shifted sideways when I leaned back on the wall in the alcove. Pansy quickly re-pinned my hair while I managed to get my breathing back under control, and then squeezed my shoulders.

"You look pretty good, Granger."

I straightened my shoulders and puffed out my chest, "Hmm. I think you're right."

She snorted a laugh, "And modest too."

Draco was waiting right outside the bathroom door, leaning casually against the opposite wall. He smiled at me when we finally emerged, and I smiled in return.

"Alright?" He asked me quietly and I nodded. "We don't have to do this. We can just leave."

"No, I want to." I told him, "I just don't want you to feel like I'm using you to get back at him."

He smiled at me, "There's nothing to worry about. And, as I have said previously, it is my greatest pleasure to be used by you."

I laughed and he kissed me quickly, holding his arm out to me. I looped mine through it and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"No," Pansy said with a smirk taking my other arm, "Go ahead Draco, stick with your original plan. It'll be more of a shock that way."

He frowned at Pansy, and gripped my arm tighter, not wanting to let me go. Pansy rolled her eyes at him. "Go in there and stand by the bar. We'll follow and  _then_ you can ask her to dance. If you walk through that door with her, it'll ruin the surprise."

He grinned at Pansy and then kissed me again, lingering for a few seconds, "Are you sure about this?"

I smiled, "I am. Are you?" This was as big of a deal for him as it was for me. He was just better at hiding his nerves.

"I get to show everyone that I'm yours? I'm more than ready." He traced one finger down my arm, making me shiver, "You look stunning, by the way."

I looked down and then back up at him, "So do you."

Pansy shoved at his arm, "Go, before I vomit."

I laughed, knowing that she loved that we were together. She had expressed it often enough, telling me how much I had changed him, how happy I had made him.

He kissed me once more and then headed back down towards the ball room.

Pansy chuckled from beside me, "You ready?"

"Yeah," I said and huffed out a nervous breath.

"Hey," Pansy said softly, "Hold your head up. Prove that arsehole wrong. Every male in that room has given you the once over tonight, and they're all laughing at the fact that he's the one who threw you away. So let him, and everyone else know, that there's only one man good enough to satisfy Hermione Granger."

* * *

 

We walked back to the ballroom, my heart beating rapidly. This was it. Everyone would know. I saw Ginny and Harry standing with Blaise. He was whispering something to them, and going by the look on Ginny's face, he had just explained what had happened. Draco had clearly told him, and he was now telling them.

"That's it?" Blaise asked, and shook his head, "You just walk back in? With Pansy?"

"What did you expect?" I asked and tilted my head to the side, "Did you think I'd come back in here straddling him?"

Harry choked out a surprised sound, and Blaise chuckled, "That would have been much more interesting."

"You're okay?" Ginny asked and I told her that I was perfectly fine, "My brother's an arsehole. He might actually realise what he's lost tonight."

Pansy steeled her with a glare, "He's lucky our girl stopped Draco from beating the snot out of him."

"Granger."

Regardless of the fact that I was waiting for him, a shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his voice. It was low and deep, and I let it settle over me, let it calm me. I turned slowly to find him staring straight at me, his face blank.

"Malfoy." I said and watched as his lips twitched.

He held his hand out to me, "Care to dance?"

"Um..." I looked at him through narrowed eyes, "With you?"

"Yes, with me," His voice was laced with amusement. I looked down at his outstretched hand and he laughed, "Come on Granger, I promise I won't bite."

"Oh, that's disappointing," I whispered and took his hand.

And in what was a perfect gesture, Harry grabbed his arm knowing full well that people all around had begun to notice that Draco asked me to dance and were listening in.

Draco dropped my hand and turned to look down to where Harry's hand was on his arm. His eyes flared in mock anger, "Potter?"

Trying to keep his face straight while making a show of stopping Draco, Harry glared at him, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Asking Granger to dance," he looked at me and then back to Harry, "I wasn't aware I needed your permission."

They stared at each other for several seconds, before Harry nodded his head and Draco turned to me.

I rolled my eyes, "Pissing contest over then?"

Ginny snorted and turned away, her shoulders shaking. I looked at Pansy, who was doing her best to not burst out laughing, and I rolled my eyes, "Let's go before this lot give us away,"

Draco held out his hand and I gladly took it, biting my lip as he led me to the dance floor.

People began pointing and bursts of whispers were exploding all around us. I grinned up at him "I guess they've all noticed."

"I've only proved that I'm a gentleman, simply a case of your boss asking you to dance. They know nothing yet." He smirked at me, and in typical Malfoy form, he took complete control. He placed one hand at the low curve of my back, his thumb deliberately brushing over my bare skin. His other hand gripped mine and he pressed against me tightly, his eyes were locked on mine, and in the moment just before he stepped sideways with me, I knew that this was right. So incredibly right.

And then I discovered he was a liar.

He _could_  dance.

My hand that was resting on his shoulder slipped to his chest, "You're a liar."

He arched an eyebrow at me, "How's that?"

"You  _can_  dance, Malfoy. You told me you couldn't."

He laughed, "No. I never said I  _couldn't_ dance, Granger. I simply said I  _didn't_ dance."

"Well, everyone knows the truth now."

He leaned close and my already racing heart sped up. I hadn't been this close to him all night, and the fresh, clean smell of him filled my senses and the warmth of his breath against my ear surrounded me. "Do you want them to know the  _whole_ truth?"

I nodded against his cheek and he pulled back to glance down at me. His eyes held mine, a flicker of something flashed quickly across his face, and for a moment I thought he had changed his mind.

And then he gave me a wicked smile, leaned in and his mouth was on mine kissing me. Kissing me in front of a room full of people, whose eyes hadn't left us since we walked onto the dance floor just minutes ago.

I thought my nerves would take over and I would push away from him a panic. Instead, a calming warmth spread through me. He felt like home. He had shown me how love should be. He doted on me. He treated me like a princess and made me feel desired. Ron had only ever made me feel like we were together because we were expected to be.

I pulled back to look at him, sliding my hand from his chest to the back of his neck. His eyes had the same fire they held when he saw me in the alcove, and his focus didn't shift. He didn't look around to see who was watching, didn't look smug, nor self-satisfied that we'd made a scene that was sure to be front page news the following day. He just stared at me with complete adoration.

And a wave of dizziness washed over me and the realisation hit me hard.

I was in love with him.

I was completely, one hundred percent in love with him.

I pulled him back to my mouth, and he chuckled at my boldness, his hand dropping from mine and his arms wrapped around me, his fingers linking at the base of my spine. His lips slid over mine and were warm and soft, and tasted like expensive scotch. We had stopped dancing, completely lost in each other, completely oblivious to the rapt attention we had garnered from the entire room.

I broke the kiss and I leaned up to whisper in his ear, "I love you."

He stiffened against me, "You what?" he whispered.

I tilted my head back to look at him, "I love you Draco. I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you."

He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his shoulders relaxed, his face completely at peace, as if he'd been waiting his entire life to hear me say the words. He lifted his hands to my face and kissed me, deep and full.

"We should leave," He said breathlessly.

"But why?" I said coyly.

He stared at me, "That owl I sent? I need you naked. Now."

"I needed you naked an hour ago," I told him, not caring in the slightest that he hadn't said the words back to me. The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He took my hand and all but dragged me off the dance floor and I finally saw the stunned looks on the faces of everyone else in the room. I almost laughed as we headed for the staircase, leaving the entire room to stare open-mouthed at our departure.


	19. Chapter 19

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

I woke up alone. The bed was cool where she had been sleeping, but I wasn't surprised – Hermione was an early riser, even after a long, sleepless night.

I sat up, and looked around the room, smirking. Our clothes were strewn across the floor, from the doorway to the bed. There had been nothing slow or romantic when we arrived back home. Our mouths barely left each other, and our clothes were torn off in a frantic rush to be naked and joined together. I was sure that I would be severely punished for the state her dress – or what was left of it – was in.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, still exhausted from my own enthusiasm that went well into the wee hours of the morning, and I pictured her the night before; her hands tugging my hair, her teeth on my skin while I moved over her, again and again, until we both collapsed exhausted and sweaty, and finally fell asleep tangled together.

I pulled on some sleep pants and made my way downstairs, breathing in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I leaned on the door frame taking in the sight before me. She was leaning against the counter, her bare feet were crossed at the ankles as she drummed her fingers on the counter top and studied some papers that were in front of her.

I thought she looked stunning last night, but this morning she was perfection. Her hair was messy, thrown over one shoulder, and she was wearing my old Slytherin Quidditch jumper. Her long legs were bare, leaving me to wonder if she actually had anything on under it. She looked adorable, and I loved her in it. My cock twitched in my pants. I peered down and smiled; I was not so exhausted after all.

I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. She yelped, her head snapping up to look at me. "Hi," I said and a smile lit up her face.

"Hi." She twisted in my arms, "I made coffee. I figured you'd need it."

"Hmm, I think I might." I kissed her, "I'm so exhausted, I don't think I'll get a run in this morning."

She ran her hand across my bare chest, her stare open and slightly amused. "Well, whatever it is you're doing to keep in shape, it's definitely working."

With a sly grin, I hoisted her onto the counter. She let out a surprised squeak which quickly turned into a whimper when I stepped between her legs and pulled her against me. I kissed her. Long, slow, and deep, my tongue diving into her mouth. Her arms looped around my neck, and—

"Draco, are you here?" the voice startled me and I jumped. Hermione's eyes went wide and her head whipped around.

My mother was standing on the opposite side of the room, an equally stunned look on her face.

_Shit._

I looked from my mother to Hermione and back again. " _Ah,_ mother. Hello _. "_

Hermione slid off the counter and turned to face her, standing slightly behind me. Her fingers dug into my back and I winced.

"Draco," mother said and then looked at Hermione, "Ms. Granger."

" _Ah..._ Hello." Hermione said from beside me and an awkward silence followed.

"Mother, I...ah...that is to say..." I stammered, trying to explain what she was seeing.

"So it's true?" She asked, holding up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , and we saw our own faces smiling back at us before turning to face each other and kiss.

"It is." I said and reached back, pulling Hermione into my side, "Is there an issue?"

Beside me Hermione sucked in a fast breath and gripped the counter, the realisation that I had not told my own mother about us hitting her.

She looked between us, her face unreadable, "Ms. Granger. If you don't mind, I need to speak with my son."

Hermione nodded quickly and stepped out of my grip, "Ah, yeah. Sure. I'll go...um...upstairs."

I glared at my mother, "I'll go with you,"

"Draco—" My mother started, but I stopped her.

"No Mother, you can wait down here while Hermione and I get dressed, and then we'll  _all_ talk." I smiled apologetically at Hermione, who was tugging my jumper further down her legs, and the look in her eyes told me that my suspicion was true. She was completely naked underneath. I stepped in front of her, creating a barrier between her and my mother, and directed her to the stairs, "There's fresh coffee mother, help yourself. _"_

* * *

I shut the bedroom door behind me, leaning back and closing my eyes. There was no way this was happening. My mother had not just seen us half naked in my kitchen.

I cursed.  _No,_  this wasn't happening.

I opened my eyes, expecting an angry Hermione to be glaring at me, but instead she was standing in front of me, her hand covering her mouth and her entire body shaking with silent laughter.

"Hermione?"

She took a few seconds to get herself under control, and finally lowered her hand. "That just happened, right?"

I nodded, stunned at her reaction, "Yes. My mother is downstairs."

"And we..." She let out a small giggle, "We were..." She tilted her head back and laughed, full, deep, belly aching laughter. When she looked back at me, she had tears in her eyes. "She saw us...dressed like this." She was gasping for air between chuckles, "Must have been...a shock for her."

"You're not mad that I didn't tell her yet?"

"No, actually I'm not." She wiped the tears off her cheeks, "Should I be?"

"I  _ah,"_ I shrugged, "I guess I figured you would be."

She stepped forward, and gripped my hips, "Honestly, I just think it's funny."

I watched her for a beat and then she cracked up again, laughing against my shoulder. "Of all the ways...she could have...found out."

I couldn't help but laugh with her, "I am sorry."

She blew out a long breath and managed to get herself under control, lifting her head from my shoulder, biting her lip. Her fingers traced along the waistband of my sleep pants, "How long do you think she'll wait?"

I made a choking sound, "Ah,  _what?"_

"We were going to shower, right? Before we went back down there?" She tugged on the elastic, pulling it from my waist and letting it snap back.

"Are you serious?"

She backed towards the bathroom, reaching for the hem of the jumper she was wearing and pulling it over her head. I felt my cock stir and I shook my head.

"Are you coming?" She called and I heard the shower turn on.

I crossed the room, shoving my pants down my legs and kicking them off my feet. She was already under the water when I walked through the door. "Who are you? And what have you done with Hermione?"

She laughed, and held her hand out to me. I stepped under the water with her, and her eyes roamed my torso, landing on my fully erect cock. "Tell me you don't want this?"

Her hair was wet, the loose strands clinging to her face and I swallowed hard. She was stunning the previous night; she was perfection in my kitchen this morning; and now, standing naked before me, she was quite simply my everything. She had told me that she loved me, right in the middle of the dance floor, with everyone watching, but in that moment it was just me and her.

I hadn't said it back – not yet anyway. I loved her, more than anything, but it didn't feel right to say the words back to her instantly, and I didn't want to say it just because she had I needed take my time, pick the right moment for that first declaration.

I pulled her to me. "Are you sure about this?" I said close to her ear.

She gripped my arse and arched into me, the hard line of my cock pressing into her stomach. She stretched to kiss me, and murmured  _yes_ against my mouth, lifting my hand, pressing it to her breast, and I felt her nipple hard against my palm. Her head dropped back and she gasped as I dipped my head and sucked hungrily at her tight nipple.

"Love..." her voice was breathy and her hands gripped my hair. "...your mouth... _oh!"_

I bit down and she convulsed, her back arching and a loud groan echoed off the tiles. Her fingernails clawed at my shoulders, and she gasped when I turned us and pressed her against the cold tiles.

I kissed my way back up her chest, finding her mouth again and I groaned when I felt her tongue slide over mine. I reached down between her thighs, sliding my fingers along the slick crease of her pussy, pulling another loud groan from her mouth.

"Draco," She gasped, "I need..."

"You need what?" I leaned forward, my lips hovering over hers, "Tell me."

"I need...you... _.more..._ please." Her words came out in a staccato burst and her mouth fell open in a sharp gasp when my fingers sunk into her.

Her hand fumbled for my cock and she wrapped me in her fist in a vice-like grip. My head fell forward, landing heavily on her shoulder, and I buried my face in her neck. " _Fuuuck."_ I groaned and shoved my fingers deeper into her body, while I began to fuck her fist.

"You're fucking drenched." I pressed my teeth into her neck, biting, nipping kissing, "Your skin is perfect. You taste amazing."

She moaned as I pressed harder against her, her hand flying over me, matching the speed with which my fingers were plunging into her. I watched her face, a pink flush creeping over her skin, and the ball of heat that was building in my belly almost exploded, and I needed to be inside her, to be moving in her, feeling her heat along the length of my cock.

I yanked my fingers from her and gripped the backs of her thighs, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around my hips, and I slipped inside her body. Her head fell back, thumping against the tile and her breaths were sharp and ragged. She was slick and warm, and I looked down to where I was moving in and out of her; her tight pussy stretching around me as I moved faster.

"Do you feel that?" I grunted, "Do you feel how tight your fucking pussy is around me? Do you feel how fucking hard I am?"

"Love you inside me," her voice wavered, "Love your..." she hiccupped, "Love you."

Her words rang in my ears, I wanted to tell her but my own words lodged in my chest and all I could do was lose myself in her. I jerked against her, pressing her hard against the wall, hearing the slap of my skin against hers as I pushed into her and pulled out again, knowing that no matter how many times I woke with her beside me, or how many times I was inside her, or how often she said she loved me, it would never be enough. And the overwhelming thought sent me spinning.

"Granger,  _shit!_  I can't hold...shitshitshit!"

She squeezed my hips with her thighs, digging her feet into my arse, "Don't hold back. Let go, let me watch."

I hated to be quick with her, but I was too close, and my loud shout echoed around us as my body clenched and I unloaded inside her.

She reached between us, her fingers rubbing hard circles over her clit. My cock was still pulsing inside her and I felt her pussy tighten, watching as her face changed. She gasped and her breath stopped and she gripped my hair. A warmth spread through my chest. How she could forgive me, how she could possibly love me, how she could want to be my everything astounded me. And now, watching her, watching as pleasure tore through her and her own sharp plea rang out, I knew.

She slumped against me. I closed my eyes, holding her tightly, wanting to stay in this bubble with her and leave everything else behind. "I love you," I whispered, and she sucked in a breath. "I love you Hermione Granger."

Her warm body seemed to melt into mine, every inch of her perfect and soft, and for the first time in my life I felt like I truly belonged. She was someone who had seen the worst of me, and loved me anyway.

It was so fucking different. I had been conditioned to hold in my feelings, to not let anyone see the real me. But with her I felt safe, I wanted to let her know everything; every thought, every feeling, every fear. I had never felt like this, not once. Not with any of the women who had flittered through my life, not even with my friends.

"I love you," I whispered again and she flung her arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.

"Really?" She whispered.

I chuckled and kissed her wet hair, "Yes, really."

I slowly lowered her to the floor, holding her until she steadied her shaking legs. She stared up at me, tears filling her eyes, a huge smile on her face.

"I love you," I whispered once more holding her face and gave in to the intense relief that I felt at finally letting someone in.

She stretched up and her mouth found mine, kissing me slowly, deeply, and leaving me wanting to pretend my mother wasn't downstairs.

My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped. I had completely forgotten about her. And we had been loud. Very loud.

Hermione's face reflected mine, "Your mother is waiting."

It was my turn to laugh. "And I thought getting caught half naked was going to be an issue."

* * *

 

Ten minutes later she was sitting quietly on the edge of the now neatly made bed, dressed somewhat demurely in skinny jeans and a turtleneck jumper and was staring at the floor.

I squatted in front of her, placing my hands on her knees, "Talk to me."

"Your mother is downstairs. Your scary arse mother, who I can only imagine what's going through her mind right now," She was still staring at the floor, "I know I made light of it, but she terrifies me, Draco,  _and_ she saw me half naked in your kitchen."

"Why does she terrify you?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide in disbelief, "Ah, she's Narcissa Malfoy."

"Hermione," I said gently, "She might not be what you expect. Her name shouldn't terrify you,  _she_ shouldn't terrify you, and if you give her a chance, you'll find that out for yourself."

"She wanted to talk to you alone, Draco." she said, "She wanted to ask you what the hell you think you're doing with me."

I pulled her to her feet, "I assure you she didn't. She wanted to lecture me as to why it was that I hadn't told her about you. She knows how I feel, and she won't be pleased with me for keeping this from her."

"She knows how you feel?" She looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"It might come as a surprise, but the day after Lucius' trial, my mother confronted me and asked me straight out how I felt about you. She had seen me looking at you in that courtroom for days and suspected my feelings for you went way past gratitude."

"Oh," she looked surprised.

I kissed her quickly, "She went through the same things I did when my father turned on us. She had to deal with the press, and the taunts, and the disbelief from everyone that she hadn't been locked up with my father. She'd not been the nicest person, I'll give you that, but how she had acted, what she had believed, well, the vitriol that she received was probably worse than anything she had said or done."

"That's why she moved to Spain?"

"It is. It's been much easier for her there. She might deserve the anger, but she's trying to redeem herself. Much like me."

"Honestly, I'd not given any thought at all to the fact that I would have to meet her."

"I know you didn't, and that's on me." I cupped her face, "Listen, she'll love you, Everyone does. And the fact that I love you will be enough for her."

A smile curled her lips, "I liked hearing you say it."

"I  _loved_ hearing you say it." I told her, "And I'm sure you'll hear me say it often."

"Good," She whispered and took a deep breath, "Your mother."

I took her hand in mine and squeezed it, "My mother."

* * *

 

We descend the stairs, Hermione politely insisting that I go first. I made a comment under my breath about Gryffindor courage that made her laugh, and I knew that despite her misgivings, she would be fine.

My mother was sitting in one of the armchairs reading the newspaper that she had brought with her. She looked up when I cleared my throat, and she was unable to hide the amused smirk from her face.

"Our apologies for taking so long, mother." I said with an equally amused smirk, "Hermione is terrified of you and I had to talk her out of simply apparating away to avoid you."

"Hey!" Hermione cried and slapped my arm, "I was  _not_ going to apparate. Although I might now, if you're going to lie to your mother."

"And my apologies for just showing up like I did," She looked pointedly at Draco, "Had I known you were staying here Ms. Granger, I would have informed my son of my impending visit."

"Really Mother?" I arched my eyebrow, and nodded towards the newspaper that she had folded and placed on the table, "You honestly didn't think she would be staying here after seeing that?"

Beside me Hermione groaned. She had her fingers pressed to her eyes and she was shaking her head, "Draco, seriously?"

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence.

She shot me a withering glare and then smiled back at my mother, "Hermione Granger."

"Yes. I know who you are."

"I just thought I would introduce myself properly considering your son can't be bothered to introduce me to you himself."

Her lips curled into a smile, and she looked as though she was holding back a laugh. "Yes, well, he  _can_ be rather obstinate."

Hermione sniggered, "Yes,  _rather."_

Mother nodded again, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Granger."

"Likewise," Hermione said and nodded back at her. "But please call me Hermione, I mean really, after the state you saw me in, I think we're past formalities."

My mother actually laughed, "As long as you call me Narcissa. And never mind the state you were in. Yes I was shocked, but I entirely blame Draco for not telling me."

They both turned to look at me and I smiled, "And you thought you wouldn't get along."

Hermione rolled her eyes at me, "Nonetheless, I still feel I should apologise."

My mother nodded, accepting her apology, "Now, tell me how this all came about."

"Hermione moved into the cottage down the cliffs after, um..." I wasn't sure how much my mother knew, or how much Hermione wanted me to tell her."

"After I walked in on my former boyfriend with his dick inside another woman." Hermione said, and then looked at me, "There's no point lying about it."

"That was true also?" Mother looked at Hermione, her eyes wide. Hermione nodded and my mother shook her head, "I always thought the Weasley's were rubbish."

Hermione's back stiffened, "Only one of them," she said sharply, "Don't judge the entire family of the actions of just one of them."

Mother's eyes flicked to mine. Hermione's meaning couldn't have been clearer; she wasn't judging my mother on my father's actions, so my mother should do the same.

"So, ah, anyway," I stumbled on, taking Hermione's hand in my own, "Hermione moved in and we both had no idea the other was so close until we met on the beach one morning, and things just...bloomed from then."

My mother was still eyeing Hermione carefully, "So you decided that last night was when everyone should know?"

"Well, yes. We figured if everyone knew at the same time it might keep the gossip at bay." I winced, "But a few friends have known for a while, everyone at work knew as well..."

"But not me?"

Hermione remained silent beside me, whether it was because my mother had pissed her off, or because of the accusation behind her words, I had no idea.

"And I'm sorry for not telling you," I said, "I should have, but I didn't. I don't know why I didn't tell you, but I can't change that." I lifted Hermione's hand to my lips, "I guess I just wanted to keep her for myself as long as I could."

"As sweet as that is," Hermione said smiling at me, "You know it's not true." She turned to my mother, "I was very reluctant to tell anyone, especially after what happened. I wanted to protect myself, and Draco, and I didn't want to have to deal with the questions and the stares all over again."

"Yes, but you didn't ask me not to tell my mother, so that's my fault."

My mother looked between us and smiled, "You're already a team."

We both looked at her, "Mother?"

She looked Hermione directly in the eye, "Ms. Granger. Hermione. If I'm honest, I can't say you were the person I would have hoped my son would end up with. You are everything I despised. And I wondered if my son was simply using you to defy all that I – and he - once stood for. But I've seen the look in his eyes, and it's a look that cannot be faked. I have no need to ask how he feels about you, I can clearly see that he is in love with you, and you with him. And  _that_ is what is important. That is what makes you a team."

She shifted in her chair, leaning forward and the steely glare in her eyes softened, "You two are more alike than either of you realise. You both are talented and passionate, and doggedly determined, and you have both have lived through more than you should have in your short lives. And if you've managed to come through all of that and find someone that understands you and makes you happy, then you've achieved more than most."

Hermione looked at me, a slight frown on her face. I squeezed her hand, assuring her that _yes,_ that was definitely Narcissa Malfoy's approval.

But Hermione's frown didn't leave her face. "So, you don't really like me, but you'll put up with me for Draco's sake?"

"Hermione, darling, no." Mother smiled at her, "That's not what I meant at all. I don't know you. I know  _of you,_  I know what you're capable of, and I know what Draco has told me, but that's it."

Hermione looked first at me and then back to my mother, her face thoughtful. And in a move that even surprised me, my mother stood from her place across from us and moved to sit beside Hermione.

"It's not often that I ask for a second chance, but I'd like to think that since you've done so for my son, you will find it in your heart to do the same for me. I would like to get to know you, if you'll let me."

After a few seconds of silence, Hermione finally nodded, "I'd like that."

* * *

 

I found her later in the evening sitting in the old armchair on the top floor, staring out the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, an unreadable look on her face.

"You okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I was just thinking."

I dragged the footstool closer and sat down in front of her, placing my hands on her knees. "About?"

"The weirdness that was your mother."

I laughed, "Did I not tell you that she's not the complete bitch that everyone assumes that she is?"

"Yeah, you did." She nodded, and looked back out the window.

"Hey," I said quietly, "What's going on?" My heart had picked up speed, unsure of what had gotten into her head. Things had gone surprising well with my mother, she'd been honest, and I thought that Hermione had handled her well. But the sombre mood that seemed to have settled over her had me concerned.

She reached for my hand, without looking away from the window, "I'm just surprised at how far we've come."

My heartbeat slowed, and the anxiety I felt at what could have been bothering her disappeared. I tapped her knees with my fingers, "You're being nostalgic?"

"Are you teasing me?"

I stood and sat beside her, pulling her half onto my lap, "Of course I'm teasing you."

"Have I told you today that you're an arse?"

"Not that I recall." I said and laughed, "Tell me what you were thinking about."

She shifted, slinging her legs across mine and over the arm of the chair, and leaning her head back on the soft leather. "You told me that you love me, and your mother asked me to give her a second chance. Those two things are not something I ever imagined happening, let alone on the same day."

I brushed my mouth over hers. "Today was a good day."

"It was, but was it  _too good?"_

I lifted my hand to her jaw, rubbing small circles on her cheek with my thumb. Her eyes spoke volumes about what she was thinking. She was worried about my mother, worries about what everyone would think, and worried about Weasley and what his reaction would be.

"You don't think things can just be easy?"

"Not usually when it comes to us."

"Would it help to know that from the very moment I met you I was in awe of you?" I smirked at her look of disbelief, "It was my fault that things were...difficult...between us. When I first insulted you on the train, the first time you raised you hand in class and I belittled you for outshining me, when you hit me. All those things were my fault. I wanted your attention and the only way I knew how was to insult you.  _I_ made it hard. So maybe this how things were actually meant to be."

She brushed her lips with mine, her dark eyes fathomless as she locked her gaze on mine. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I've been brooding over this since your mother left, thinking that this was all far too easy, and in one fell swoop, you make it all better."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always and arse."

"Just most of the time?"

I pinched her hip, "Have you been punished today?"

She tilted her head, "Yes, I believe that happened earlier in the day."

"I think my mother will longer appear unannounced." I laughed and I stroked her cheek with my knuckles, "Hermione, listen. I'm fairly certain that the next few weeks will be a nightmare, but we're safe while we're here. But I'm sure that eventually no one will care about us and we can just be boring and quiet and live our lives on these cliffs."

"That sounds perfect," She tugged me back to her mouth and all talking was done.

I slid my arm under her legs and in one smooth movement, lifted us from the chair. I apparated us to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, meeting her soft gaze and smiling down at her.

Everything that had happened last night, everything that had happened today, every good thing that was now a part of my life, was because of her.

She was alluring and beautiful, kind and caring, thoughtful and brilliant.

And she was mine.

 


	20. Chapter 20

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

"Ms. Granger?" The crystal ball on my desk glowed red as Alexis' voice sounded.

I frowned,  _Ms. Granger?_ She never called me Ms. Granger. I touched it with my fingertip, "Yes, Alexis?"

"There's a Mr. Ronald Weasley here to see you. Are you available, or would you prefer me to schedule a meeting with him later in the week?"

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the laughter. Ron would hate that Alexis didn't know who he was – even though it was only an act.

"Ah, no, it should be fine. Tell Mr. Weasley that if he is happy to wait, I'll be down as soon as I can." I said keeping my voice even.

"I'll let him know." Her voice was wavering as she spoke and I knew she was also attempting not to laugh.

The small crystal ball returned to its clear state and I stared at it.

He couldn't have been more predictable.

The entire wizarding world was aware of the fact that I was working at  _MZP Potions,_ and the entire world now knew that Draco and I were more than just colleagues. And it would just so happen that at barely 9am on the Monday morning after Draco and I revealed that piece of information to the world that Ronald Weasley chose to show up. Wonderful.

I sighed. He had proven over the last few months that he could have cared less about me. I hadn't seen nor heard from him since I slapped his face and disappeared. He'd not tried to find me, had not asked Harry or Ginny where I was, had not even sent an owl.

It wasn't until I did something that outshone him, did something that took him from the front covers, did something that made him look like a fool, that he could be bothered to come and see me.

I knew him far too well to know that his indiscretions wouldn't have concerned him. Oh, he would have been embarrassed to have to face his mother, but mostly he would have felt like a big man. He wouldn't have cared about the negative publicity, he would have loved the attention, loved that he could brag about just how many women he had slept with, just how many women  _wanted_ him.

But I also knew that he would hate that I wasn't pining for him, that I had moved on. And that I had moved on with Draco, had moved on with the very last person that he, or anyone else, would have expected, would have been eating him alive.

I made my way down the hall, headed for Draco's office, and was surprised to see him walking towards me. His lips were drawn into a thin line, his eyes were dark and he looked ready to explode.

"He's here?" His voice was full of venom.

"It appears so." I said, putting my hand on his chest and stopping him from tearing downstairs and ripping Ron a new one.

"Do you want me to deal with him?"

"No," I said and smoothed my hand down his shirt and gently lifted his arm, and prised his wand from his hand. "And maybe it would be best if you left this up here. I don't care to visit you in Azkaban."

He looked at me, his face calming considerably, "Do you want to see him?"

I shrugged one shoulder, "Not really. But I've faced much worse than Ronald Weasley."

"Do you seriously think you're going down there alone?"

"Oh, that would never have happened." Blaise said stepping up beside me.

"Thank you, really, but I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, what's he going to do?"

"Against you?" Pansy called from her spot beside the elevator where she was waiting for us. "Probably weep with fear."

"Was there an office memo that I missed?" I asked looking between the three of them.

"You're family now, Granger." Blaise looped his arm around my shoulders and hugged me, "We take care of our own."

Draco's hand was firmly planted in mine as we waited for the elevator doors to open. I chuckled and all three looked at me.

"What?" Pansy asked.

"Slytherins' golden trio," I shook my head, "About to go into battle for me."

Draco smiled at me; "Blaise is right" he said and kissed my cheek, "Family."

* * *

 

I steeled myself as the elevator doors slid open. I had asked the three of them to let me deal with him, to stay back and observe only. They had all protested, and I while I loved them all for their concern, this was something I needed to do myself. I explained that their presence would be off putting enough for him since they were scarily menacing when they were on a tear, so they were to only step in if things got ugly.

They reluctantly agreed and Draco squeezed my hand tighter as the doors slid open.

We stepped out and I looked up to see Ron attempting to step around the reception desk but then stopping and holding his hands up as Alexis aimed her wand directly at him.

"I've told you already, Mr. Weasley, do not try to go past this desk. If you don't want to be blasted onto the street, I suggest you take a step back." Her voice sounded menacing, a far cry from the timid, mild mannered looking woman that she appeared to be.

"Fucking Slytherins," he muttered and stepped back.

"Not that it matters, Mr. Weasley, but I am a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. Your presumption is rude and uncalled for."

He muttered an apology, and then straightened his spine when he saw us.

"Ronald, what the hell are you doing here?" I glared at him as I crossed the foyer to stand beside the desk.

He stepped towards me, his eyes on Alexis and her wand, his hands still held out, as if protecting himself. "I just wanted to see you." He gave me a sad little smile and I rolled my eyes.

"You haven't bothered to try to see me before today." I shook my head.

"I had no idea where you were!" He sounded indignant, "How could I talk to you?"

"You could have sent an owl." I pointed out, "And I've worked here for a month now, you could have come here at any time, yet you just happen choose today to come and see me. Why?"

His face went red, "Hermione, I—" He looked over my shoulder, seeing Draco, Blaise and Pansy all watching, "I, ah...can we talk somewhere else?"

"Like an  _office?"_  I huffed out a laugh, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Somewhere quiet and private, somewhere you could hide what's happening?"

He said nothing, but managed to look like he'd been the one who was wronged.

"Why are you  _really_ here, Ronald?"

He glanced over my shoulder again and I sighed and turned to walk away. Ron grabbed my arm, and I saw Draco's fist clench, but he remained where he was.

"Do not touch me." I looked at Ron's hand on my arm, "You've lost the right to  _ever_ touch me again."

"I made a mistake," Ron admitted, pulling his hand quickly from my arm, knowing full well the consequences if he didn't. "They meant nothing, truly they didn't. Not one of them compares to you."

I heard Blaise chuckle behind me and Ron glared over my shoulder at him. I stifled my own laugh; he only ever admitted to me to having slept with one woman. I knew the truth of course - the entire world knew the truth - but his slip up was all the ammunition I needed.

" _They?"_ I narrowed my eyes at him, "You told me  _she_  meant nothing, that  _she_  was the only one. You repeatedly denied that there were more and told me that the stories were all wrong. How many were there, Ronald?

Realising his mistake, his face drained of all its colour, "No...I meant... _she,"_  He spluttered. _"She_ meant nothing."

I just stared at him. "She meant nothing? The woman you were fucking on your desk meant nothing? Really?" His face went even paler and I huffed out a laugh, "Then why was she at the ball with you then?"

He choked out a sound, knowing that he'd been caught in yet another lie. He softened his face, and tried to deflect my question, "You looked great the other night...beautiful."

"Just...don't," I told him.

"Hermione—"

I held up my hand, "You've got about three seconds to tell me what you're really doing here before I let Alexis blast you back out into the street."

"I miss you. I miss seeing you." He gave me a soft smile that at one time would have melted my heart. But now it just made me nauseous. "I miss talking with you."

"So talk with  _her._ " I snapped and his smile faltered.

"She's, ah, not really…interested." He winced.

I didn't have to look over my shoulder to know Pansy would be laughing at this revelation. The woman that we had seen him with didn't exactly look like the conversational type. In fact, I was sure that she would barely be able to string an entire sentence together.

"So thinking you could just easily replace me wasn't your best idea then?"

"No, it wasn't," he tried again with the puppy-dog eyes, and I wanted to slap the stupid expression off his face. "I shouldn't have treated you like I did. I shouldn't have just taken you for granted. You were the best thing in my life and I just want you back."

"Wha—what?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You cannot seriously think I'd ever take you back?"

"We could try."

"Try what!?" I yelled, "Try forgetting that you fucked every piece of arse who threw themselves at you? Try to forget that you fucked  _her_ on your desk? Try to forget that in the last year and a half we were together, you slept with at least a dozen different women? Is that what you want me to try?"

"Hermione, come on, after everything we've been through together, I deserve another chance."

"Are you joking!? You deserve nothing." I threw my hands in the air and Ron took several steps back. "You're not sorry, not in the slightest. You're just embarrassed that everyone thinks – no - that everyone  _knows_ that you're an idiot."

Both Ginny and Pansy had informed me that the pointing and whispering apparently hadn't stopped after Draco's and my departure from the ball. The mild taunting that Pansy and I had overheard had continued in a not so friendly way, with everyone sniggering and pointing at Ron and the bimbo he had replaced me with.

His kicked-puppy face changed instantly and he sneered at me, "Why are you being so irrational? I came here to try to do the right thing, to work this out, and you're not even willing to try.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head, "So what you're saying is that this is my fault? That you did nothing wrong?"

"This is  _us_ Hermione, we can work it out. But you have to try too."

"Ron, there is no us," I told him harshly, " _You_ ruined any chance of there ever being an _us._ This is all on you. You're the arse here, not me, and I have no idea why you would even think I would consider taking you back."

I felt a hand on my back and Ron scowled, "This doesn't concern you, Malfoy."

"It does." Draco said coolly as he stepped up beside me. "You won't speak to her like this. Or you will be asked to leave."

Ron barked out an incredulous laugh, "I won't speak to her like this!? You spoke to her like she was dirt for years."

"I did," Draco said, "And I asked her to forgive me, and she has."

"So you'll forgive this arsehole, but not me?"

"You're the fucking arsehole, Weasley." Pansy spat at him as she stood to my other side. Blaise's hand squeezed my shoulder, letting me know that all three of them had my back. "Draco might have treated her like shit at school, but at least he was honest about it. You couldn't keep you dick in your pants and you're blaming everyone else."

"Stay out of it Parkinson," Ron shot back, but the upward lilt in his tone implied that Pansy had hit a nerve. His expression changed again; he'd been caught out lying over and over again, and he stupidly proved once more that he truly did not know me at all.

I had been friends with him since he was eleven years old, and while I had taken the time to get to know everything about him – everything he liked and disliked; his moods; his expressions; the tone in his voice; everything – he had barely looked past the surface. I was sure that at one time he loved me, and maybe he even still did, or thought he did. But the fact that he come here thinking that he could make sweet faces and say kind things showed how very little he really knew about me.

Ron's eyes darted back to me and he tried to look smug, "So this is what you've lowered yourself to? Being friends with this lot?"

I made a show of bumping Pansy's shoulder with mine, "Yeah, I am. As are Harry and Ginny. Neville too. Katie Bell works in the lab with Pansy, Hannah Abbot works with me, and Charlie drops in from time to time with Dragon Scales for us."

His eyes went wide. I was sure that he believed that there was no way that Harry would be friends with them, and I knew that he had written Ginny off as his sister after her flooring him in The Ministry hallway, but Charlie dealing with us was clearly new information.

He managed to straighten his face and then dared to shake his head and smirk, "You've lost your mind, Hermione! I mean it's bad enough to be friends with them, but it's just pathetic when the best you can do is fuck Malfoy."

I let a slow smile creep across my face and took a step closer to him. He attempted to keep his face straight and not show any fear, but he failed.

"You're right," I said in a low voice, "The  _best_ I can do is fuck Malfoy." I took another step closer to him, "Because he  _is_  the best. I have orgasms that don't require the use of my own hands, lots of orgasms. Orgasms outside the bedroom. Orgasms in the kitchen and in the shower and on floor in the living room, right where everyone could easily see us."

His face burned red.

"And that  _one thing_ you absolutely refused to do because you thought it indecent? Well..." I shrugged my shoulder and winked at Draco, who grinned back at me _._

Ron looked as though his head would explode. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head.

"Just leave, Ron." My voice was steady and calm, "You're not sorry for what you did, you're only sorry you got caught. I'll never forgive you. Never. And from this moment, you have no place in my life. None."

I took Draco's hand and turned around, and walked towards the elevator without so much as another look behind me.

* * *

 

I sat staring into space. My desk was tidy, everything was its place, and I was ready to go home. I was just waiting on Draco. He had insisted that I not leave on my own, that he leave with me, and had (along with everyone else in the building) been checking in on me all day.

I had become increasingly annoyed at the constant hovering, but realised that this was what Blaise had meant by family. They were all watching out for me, and would continue to do so whether I liked it or not.

But now, a late floo meeting was holding Draco up, and of course, that gave me time to stew over the events of the day.

_Ronald Weasley was a bastard...no, he wasn't, not really...he cheated on me, several times...I was in love with him once...but he still cheated on me...we went through a lot together...yes, but he deserves to have his balls ripped off..._

My thoughts had bounced back and forth between hatred for him, and something akin to forgiveness. Not forgiveness for what he had done - I would never forgive that - but forgiveness for myself, to enable me to move on and not let him still be in my life.

And I  _had_ moved on. I was happy, with my work, with my home, with Draco. Happy with my new-found sense of knowing exactly where I was headed, and who I was headed there with.

Because I knew I had found my forever.

Luna had told me years ago that when I found it, I would know. Of course, I laughed it off, thinking she was crazy, and because I thought I had it with Ron. But now that I was with Draco, I knew that I had been wrong.

The feeling was different, it was stronger, more intense, and it was a feeling that I never wanted to lose. I wanted to know that he was there when I went to sleep, and there when I woke up. I liked knowing that he was close by, but that he gave me my space. I like the quiet with him, like reading while he played the piano, like watching him run and walking the last half mile with him.

I loved it all, and I knew that I wanted more.

"You're one scary-arse motherfucker, Granger, you know that?"

My head shot up, startled, and I laughed at Blaise as he leaned on the door frame, grinning like a mad man. It was late in the day, and he looked to be on his way out. He crossed the room and sat in the chair on the other side of my desk, drawing his ankle across his knee.

"Thank you?"

He laughed, "That was quite a show you put on this morning. I think Weasley's dick will be so shrivelled that it won't work for weeks."

"Not an image that I want in my head, thank you." I grimaced and shuddered, and then grinned, "But, yes, I very much hope you're right."

"You're okay though?"

I tilted my head to the side and smiled, "Blaise Zabini, are you being thoughtful and sweet?"

"It happens on occasion," He dropped his foot back to the floor and leaned forward, steeling me with what I assumed was a big-brotherly look, "But I'm also serious. Are you okay?"

I reached across my desk and took his hand, "I am." I said and then frowned and added, "I think."

"You think?"

I shrugged, "I don't know what it is, I've felt...grimy...all day."

"Yeah, Weasley will do that to you," he mused and laughed at my eye roll. He held his hand up, "Sorry, that was uncalled for."

"No, you're probably right. We've all made bad choices in our lives."

He nodded, "You know it's not your fault, what he did?"

"Yeah, I know, but," I sighed. "I just don't understand what he was thinking. I mean, everything that Draco and I do—"

I stopped, my cheeks heating up. This was Blaise, not Ginny or Pansy, and I wasn't sure that I should be sharing with him.

He chuckled, "I might not be 'one of the girls,' but you know you can talk to me."

"Does Draco talk to you?"

"About you two?" He asked and I nodded. His brow creased as if he was trying to remember something, and then shook his head, "Actually, no. He's said nothing. Not of an explicit nature in any case."

"Has he,  _ah,_ previously? _"_

"He has," he admitted, "But apparently he's not one to share when the woman in question is important to him."

I lowered my head, hiding my smile and wondering just how much Draco had told Blaise. Ginny and Pansy wanted every detail of my new life with Draco. I gave them snippets, but refused to tell them everything – much to their disappointment.

"I've known Draco for a long time and he's never been in love, not until you," Blaise said when I looked back up at him, "What he's told me about other women he's been with is still minimal. He's not  _that_ guy. And I doubt that I'll ever hear anything more about you other than how brilliant you are. And can I be honest with you?"

I nodded and he continued.

"I have no idea what you ever saw in Weasley. He's a prat, always had been. He latched on to Potter the minute he met him and rode on his coattails. Everyone was aware that Potter and you were the talent, he was basically the idiot sidekick. Draco's not perfect by any means, but Weasley? Not even in your league."

I smiled, "How long have you been waiting to get that off your chest?"

"A while," He laughed, "Your moratorium on degrading comments about him has held me back, but I stand by it. And you and Draco? I don't know what it is, but," He shrugged, "You just fit."

"Narcissa said the same."

"Ah, you got the Wicked Witches' approval." He gave me an impressed nod, "That's quite the achievement, Granger."

"Approval, maybe, but she still terrifies me." I admitted.

"Me too," He said quietly and grimaced, "She's…interesting."

I looked out the window. The sky was dark, but clear for what seemed like the first time in months, and I was sure that t was some universal sign that all was good in my life. "I'm sure it will be fine," I murmured, "She knows I love her son, so I think I'm okay with her."

When I looked back at him, his eyes sparkled with amusement, and I let out a relieved sighed.

"Yes, I'm in love with him too." It felt good to say it out loud.

He winked at me, "I already knew that, gorgeous. The two of you are so in love it's nauseating."

"It's only nauseating to a miserable git like you," Draco said from the doorway. He was smiling at us both as he crossed to kiss me. "Don't listen to him, he's extremely jealous and incredibly upset his dick isn't getting any action."

Blaise snorted, "I'm surprised that Granger puts up with the pathetic excuse that you call a dick. I mean seriously, Pansy has bigger balls than you."

"Don't let Pansy hear you say that." I said in a warning tone that wasn't even close to serious considering my laughter.

"It's true." He waved his hand at me, "She knows it. This one knows it. Drinks?"

Draco raised an eyebrow in question and I shrugged, "Sure. Why not."

"People will stare," He reminded me, holding my coat up while I slipped my arms into it. "Are you ready for that?"

"I am," I told him, "Besides, maybe we can find a pretty piece of arse for Blaise so he can wipe the cobwebs off his dick."

After several seconds of stunned silence, they both roared with laughter, "Shit Granger, I knew I liked you."

I gave Blaise a sweet smile that just made him laugh more.

"Was he being an arse?" Draco asked as we headed out the door.

I turned and shook my head, "No, he was just making sure his best mate's girlfriend wasn't stringing him along, and that she is in fact, in love with him."

"And is she?"

"More and more every day."

He kissed me, and took my hand in his. "Good answer."

Blaise groaned, and we both looked at him, but his face was grinning when he said, "See. Nauseating."

 


	21. Chapter 21

****** DRACO ******

* * *

 

 

I sat staring at the parchment on the table. The scotch in my glass had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and was now slowly growing warm as I simply held the glass in my palm.

Another owl had arrived, the letter it carried was once more signed by my father, and his disgust at my employing Hermione was nothing compared to his absolute horror at my now being with her. In the weeks since The Ministry ball, I had received several similar letters from him, the vitriolic sentiments gradually building until the callous, cold-hearted one that had arrived this evening.

Traitor. Turncoat. Mudblood. Disloyal. Disowned.

It was all there. Insults to me, insults to Hermione. And to top it all off, a request for me to rid myself of his family name.

My temper had twitched, but I had managed to keep it under control. There was no real point in taking any notice of the irrelevant ramblings of a pathetic shell of a man locked in prison.

But regardless, his actions were still that of a man trying to cling to the hope that he was still important, that he was still somebody, that his opinion meant something. However, the reality of it all was that he was just a name, a name that would be forgotten long before he took his final breath and left this world for good.

Although, I was in no hurry for that to happen; a lengthy stint in Azkaban was exactly what he deserved.

The fireplace flared and Hermione stepped out, her was face tired, but she was smiling nonetheless.

"Hey there, sorry I'm late." she stood behind me, running her hands down my chest and kissing the top of my head. She noticed the parchment on the table and the half drunk scotch in my hand, and her smile faltered. She move to stand beside me and took the scotch from my hand, downing it in one go. She shuddered, slightly, and winced at the burn of the scotch that she rarely drank. "What's happened?"

I leaned forward and plucked the parchment from the table and handed it to her, "My father."

Her shoulders slumped and all the air left her lungs, "Again? Have you told Harry?"

"He's on his way now." I watched as she scanned the letter, her jaw clenching. I reached my hand out and curled it around her hip to her lower back, pulling her closer and leaning my head against her hip. She ran her fingers through my hair and across the nape of my neck

"If it is him, how the hell is he doing this?" She said quietly.

"He's resourceful." I murmured, as her fingers drew circles over my skin, soothing the anger out of me. It was something that she seemed to have a natural instinct for; knowing how tense I was and knowing what I needed to sooth the stress.

I closed my eyes, letting her hands work their magic on me, hating that he was still able to make me feel like this, like I had done something wrong, that I had messed up, that I had disobeyed him.

But as much as I tried to push him out of my life, he still had a hold on me. It might have been minuscule, but it was still there.

And just how he was getting these letters to me was a complete mystery. He was under some of the harshest restrictions that Azkaban dished out, so it should have been impossible.

But this was Lucius Malfoy and his resources, it seemed, had no limits.

I sighed, loving the feel of her fingers running through my hair, and my shoulders finally relaxed. The silence settled over us, only our quiet breaths and the crashing sea outside could be heard. We'd been lucky. No one had discovered us living out here, despite the concentrated effort by almost everyone outside of our circle to do so.

Our offices had been inundated in the days following the ball, to the point of ridiculousness. Reporters camped outside the building, they had followed us everywhere, and even though I had suggested that we lay low until things died down, Hermione had insisted that we simply ignore them.

And Weasley had been a complete douche. His attempts to paint Hermione as the reason that they split were laughable. Pictures of him and the woman from the ball were splashed all over the papers with stories full of lies, of his denials, of just how hard life with Hermione had been for him. How he had to live in her shadow, how he would never live up to the expectations she had, how she had pushed him to do what he did.

Hermione refused to answer any questions, or even accusations, in regards to his spiteful claims. She had surprised me. I knew that she was strong, but her determination to not let the gossip, or the reporters, get under her skin, proved that she was more than resilient, but in fact that she had a core of steel.

Ginny, however, refused to let it slide. She had gone on her own rant, first at him and then publicly, letting any gossip reporter know that if they believed Ronald Weasley to be the innocent victim he was making himself out to be, then they were bigger idiots than he was.

And when his lies brought him no sympathy, even after Ginny's rant, he thought it wise to accuse Hermione of only chasing me for my money, of not seeing him as an equal because of his poor upbringing, of being snobbish and shallow and thoughtless, and it was possibly his biggest mistake to date.

Those who hadn't already done so turned on him, labelling him a fool and an ingrate. It was bad enough, they had said, that he cheated on her, but to insult the wizarding world's most favourite heroine on top of that? Well, that was equally unforgivable. Everyone knew she was nothing like he said, that she was able to look past anyone's faults and see the good; I was the perfect example.

And the attention seeking moron suddenly found himself no longer of any interest to anyone.

I gripped her tighter and felt the press of her lips on my head.

"Why is he doing this?" I shook my head, "Is he that desperate for his name to not be forgotten? Is he  _that arrogant?"_

She dropped into my lap, and circled her arms around my neck, "I think he still believes that the old world still exists," she shrugged, "And maybe in some dark corners, and shady dwellings, it does."

"It always will, wont it?"

"Probably," she smiled and rubbed her finger over the frown between my eyebrows, "But you're not him. So stop thinking that you are."

"I'm not thinking that." I said, but she was right. It was just one more thing that I constantly questioned about myself.

She kissed me, "Yes, you are. And I know that it will be a long time before you don't, but you know you're  _not_ him _."_

"Some days, I don't know, the distinction is hard to see."

She smiled and ran her hand across my cheek, "It's there. You're just not looking hard enough."

The fireplace flared again, and we both looked up. Harry stepped out followed closely by Ginny, who looked positively green and clapped her hand over her mouth, disappearing instantly.

"She's still sick?" Hermione asked and Potter nodded.

"She is, and morning sickness is a bullshit name, by the way. Projectile vomit at any random time during the day would be a much more suitable name for it."

He sank into the couch opposite us and Hermione shot him a look of sympathy. He looked exhausted and I cringed, glad about the fact that Hermione was in no hurry to go down that path. Just the  _thought_ of having to watch her, to have to be near her if she was anything like Ginny made me feel queasy. I wasn't sure if I could cope with the reality _._

"You didn't have to come right away, Potter," I glanced towards the small bathroom at the end of the short hallway between the kitchen and the backdoor, where I assumed Ginny had apparated to. "If Ginny's not well, you could have seen me tomorrow."

Hermione snorted a laugh and climbed off my lap, headed for the kitchen and a glass of water for Ginny for when she finally emerged.

"Not good with the vomiting, then?" Potter looked at me with barely concealed amusement.

"Understatement," Hermione said, returning and sitting in the armchair beside me. She reached over and patted my arm, "This one's no good with any of that."

"Don't get Hermione pregnant any time soon then," Ginny groaned as she returned and sunk down beside Potter, who wrapped an arm around her. "Because this sucks."

" _Ah,_  that won't be an issue, Gin," Hermione said, saving me from an awkward response, "I have no plans to follow in your footsteps any time soon. And certainly not if it means looking like you do right now."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her teasing, but I caught Potter eyeing us carefully. Clearly he knew the hangs-ups Hermione had in regards to marriage and starting a family, had probably been witness to the arguments between Weasley and her. I had no idea just how much Hermione had shared with him about us, but going by the look on his face, I was sure that she had at least told about him the conversation that we'd already had in regards to this.

"Anyway," I said and reached across and handed Potter the latest letter. "My father's latest effort arrived this evening."

Potter looked it over and shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"Lucius denies all knowledge of those." Harry indicated the note on the table, "He was actually shocked when he was shown the pictures and the story about the two of you."

"It could have been an act," Hermione suggested, but her tone sounded as disappointed as I felt.

"Ah, no. He...um," Potter looked at Ginny, and then back to Hermione.

"He what?"

"He _was_ shocked, but then he was outraged." He made a face, one I was unable to read. He pointed at the parchment on the table, "He pretty much echoed those words, but actually what he said was much worse."

Hermione frowned, "So why do you not think it's him?"

"The Ministry authorised the use of  _Veritaserum_ on him. And he was telling the truth."

I looked at Hermione, and she squeezed my hand, "That's good. Kind of."

"I guess." I shrugged. "And Demetrius?"

"Demetrius is nowhere to be found, but we're trying to get permission to trace him." Potter smiled ruefully, "I guess there are still a few purists that are happy to hide him. But the minute we find him, he'll be incarcerated with your father. We've got enough on him for selling fake or illegal ingredients to put him away, that and a few other things. We'll get him Malfoy, and he won't get near either of you."

"Are you sure Hermione is safe?"

Potter nodded, "She is. You both are. No one knows where you are, and The Aurors are okay with me relaying any information to and from you, they understand your need for privacy. And if you're both okay with it, I can put a trace on you both, that only I can monitor."

"That doesn't sound like we're safe, Potter."

"Hey," Hermione said gently, "At least your father knows – well  _knew –_ nothing of your life. And we know that Azkaban is still secure. I trust Harry, no one will find us here, and I'd be more than happy for him to keep a track of us when we're not."

She was right. Despite the fact that Lucius now knew about us, there was no way he could get to us. The prison  _was_ secure, and if Potter could keep an eye on us, I knew that no one could get near us. Not at the offices, not at home _._

I looked at the three of them and I shook my head, knowing just how Hermione felt when Weasley turned up at our office. "The three of you looking out for me...I never thought I'd see the day."

Ginny jolted upright, "No. Count me out." She clapped her hand over her mouth before bolting down the hallway, and we all jumped when the bathroom door slammed shut.

Hermione was looking down the hallway after her, her face pulled into a horrified grimace. Potter caught my eye and grinned. I sniggered and she turned back to us.

"No chance of changing your mind then?" Potter said with a smirk.

She looked at me and then lowered her gaze to my lap, "Just so you know, you won't be coming anywhere near me ever again."

I laughed, "Still making my life hell? Thanks Potter."

* * *

 

I lay staring at the ceiling with one arm curled beneath my head, the other flung across Hermione's hip. She was curled beside me, both her hands folded between her cheek and the pillow, the tiny squeak she made with every breath making me smile.

How it was possible for her to sleep as deeply as she was astounded me. But, she trusted Potter to find Demetrius, and clearly that alone had eased her mind and sleep had come easily to her. I should have been the same. I knew that Potter, and the Aurors, were more than capable of finding him, but I had been awake for hours, unable to turn off  _my_ mind. Potter's words, while a comfort to Hermione, had been running on a constant loop in my head. And the confusion that had come with his words had caused my head to pound _._

My father had no knowledge of mine and Hermione's relationship until the Aurors told him. And it wasn't him who was sending the threatening letters. But as Potter had said, he was still furious about the fact, and I was weighing up whether I liked that the fact that he knew about us and was displeased, or if I was pissed that he had been told.

I hadn't been lying when I told her he had once been my idol. Everything he did or said I wanted to emulate. In my young eyes, he was a hero. He was the man who knew everything, he was the man who could do no wrong, and he was the man who had power and demanded respect through fear. And it was a path I had once been more than will to follow him down.

The thought now made me shudder. How I could have even considered that life, considered that fear and hatred were paramount to all else, was cringe worthy. I had been led to believe his lies, believe that money, power and fear were what made you important, not respect and character and human decency.

And when the war was lost and he had tried to deny his own lies and deceit and then blame me and my mother, I had felt betrayed. And the instant hatred that had built in my chest was an emotion that was foreign when it came to my father, and I had struggled with the helplessness that I had felt at the time. And what I had hated even more was that fact that I felt as though I had lost all control. And if there was one thing I had hated more than anything, was not being in control.

It was a feeling I wasn't used to. It had been something I had mastered, something that had been indoctrinated into me; show no emotion, don't let anyone in, stay in control. But when he had turned on me, everything I had been taught to believe became worthless and irrelevant, and I was at a loss at just how to rebuild the life I thought I would have.

Pansy had been the one to first suggest that we build a legitimate business, be completely transparent, and remove ourselves completely from the sins of our fathers. And it had given me something else to focus on. My mother had a strict probation on her which had required me to move out of The Manor, and I rarely saw her because of that; I built my house up here on the cliffs and I had thrown myself into building our company. And I had finally regained control.

And then she came along, tilting my world sideways again. Only this time it was in a good way.

I rolled to my side to look at her. She was so right in my bed, she belonged beside me. I loved being able to reach out and touch her, loved hearing her long ramblings about anything and everything, loved hearing her laughter, and watching her emotions flit across her face.

And I loved her tight pussy wrapped around my cock.

Although after Ginny's less than delightful pregnancy side-effects, sex had been removed from the nightly schedule. And the possibility of it never returning had seemed a reality if Hermione's look of terror was anything to go by.

I had laughed when she had told me a definitive  _no_ as we readied ourselves for bed. She wanted no part of the gentle kisses and the teasing to see who would give in first that had become part of our nightly routine, telling me that Ginny's morning sickness that wasn't really morning sickness was huge turn-off and there would be no sex, no matter how adorable I was being.

I had questioned her faith in her muggle pill, and she had shot me a withering glare, which had just made me laugh more. But I had given in – one night without sex wouldn't kill me - and we had climbed into bed and she had fallen asleep almost immediately.

I smiled as she murmured something and then rolled to her back, her arm reaching out in search of me and finding my chest, her fingertips touching me as if in assurance that I was still there. I reached across and slid a strand of hair from her face, lightly grazing my fingers across her cheek, and I couldn't help but wonder what she would look like carrying my child.

It was something I had never before given much thought to; a child. I had always assumed it was expected of me, to carry on the Malfoy name, but I had been too young and selfish to even consider the thought when the war was being fought, and after, I was so sure that I didn't want follow the example that my father had set, that I hadn't let anyone in for long enough to consider anything but the nights in bed with them.

But now, things had changed. Hermione had been clear when she had told me that she had no desire to be married or to be a mother any time soon, and I had no intentions of pushing her. But after watching Potter with Ginny - seeing the complete adoration in his face, seeing the anguish at her being so ill, to hear them both talk animatedly about the baby who would make them a family - the desire to have exactly what they were experiencing had been so strong that I had been shocked at my own feelings. Feelings that I had no idea how to deal with.

My hand slipped to her stomach, and I slowly opened and closed my fingers across her warm skin. I imagined her belly stretched and swollen, imagined the tiny kicks and bumps from a life that maybe one day would grow inside her, imagined the morning sickness, the crazy hormones, the exhaustion, the sheer joy of having a child that  _we_ made. And I knew that I wanted it. And I knew that I wanted it with no one but her.

I rolled to my back and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, a quiet, frustrated groan slipped through my lips. I carefully slipped from the bed, not wanting to wake her, and pulled on a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt. I turned and smiled down at her in my bed. She usually started out sleeping curled in a ball, but in truth she was a sprawling sleeper, and most nights saw her with limp arms and legs starfished across the bed or my chest.

I pulled the covers over her and kissed her forehead, trailing my finger down her cheek. I hated leaving her sleeping alone, but sleep was done for me and laying there thinking about everything I had no control over wasn't helping the pounding in my head.

I headed up the stairs and threw open the blinds, letting the light from the full moon fill the room. I sat at the piano and closed my eyes. This was where I could think, where I could clear my mind and simply let the world slip away.

I pressed my fingers to the keys, playing quietly, not wanting to wake her. A consideration I had never had to make before, but one that was now automatic. She was at the forefront of my every thought, more important to me than anything else in my life.

I smiled, my mind already cleared of the overwhelming myriad of thoughts that had been a constant for hours. And now only one thought remained.

Her.

Her and the life I envisioned that we would share.

 


	22. Chapter 22

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

 

"Seriously, there's only one fucking way out, and this kid can't find it!?" Ginny eased herself into the arm chair, looking completely flustered.

"Maybe you should shove a map up there." Draco suggested and earned himself a death glare.

"Are you trying to be funny Malfoy?" She snapped, "Because you're not. You're not even close. You're an arse. Just like every other man on the planet who thinks it's perfectly okay to get women pregnant with their stupid, giant spawn."

I looked at Harry, who was grinning. Ginny was almost a week past her due date and she was holding Harry to blame. But he could have cared less, taking her feisty temper in his stride.

They had taken up residence in the small cottage that was once my home. Speculation as to just when Harry Potter's first born would arrive had reached boiling point, and they had decided to hide until the baby arrived. Of course, it had made for a couple of interesting weeks for Draco and me.

We had become accustomed to the solitude of our house on the cliffs. I had moved in permanently with Draco after months of him insisting that since I spent most nights with him, I may as well stay every night with him, and we had settled into a comfortable, quiet, easy existence. Pansy and Blaise were regular visitors, as were Ginny and Harry. As was Neville, with Luna when he wasn't teaching, and Theo Nott, who had been a hilarious addition to the group, with a wit that was quicker and snarkier than even Blaise's.

But most surprising of all was when Charlie Weasley started dropping by.

Usually with Pansy.

My bringing Charlie on board to supply dragon scales and blood had had a ripple effect. He had gotten to know both Draco and Blaise, both of who had found Charlie to be extremely interesting, and they both scoffed at my suggestion that they were both mildly jealous that Charlie chased dragons while they wore suits. And in turn, Charlie had, after several visits, become  _extremely_ interested in the potions lab _._

Pansy had been oddly quiet when he had first started supplying for us. She had shown him the lab, had been overly professional when talking with him, and had not been her normal, smart-mouthed self. My initial concerns had been that she was blaming Charlie for Ron's behaviour, but I realised just how ridiculous that notion was since Pansy and Ginny had become the very best of friends.

But after a string of weekly visits from Charlie, I realised that I had never seen Pansy in a situation that she couldn't control, and feelings were something that fucked you over royally, especially when you weren't prepared.

And it wasn't hard to see why she was struggling to control her feelings. Charlie was muscular and tanned, and handsomely rugged from his time working outdoors. His hands were rough and calloused, and he had a large scar on his arm from a dragon burn. His smile was infectious and his pleasant, friendly nature was hard to ignore.

We'd of course teased her relentlessly – wondering just how those rough hands felt – and in typical Pansy style, she told us all to fuck off. And when she said this, we knew.

Pansy was completely smitten.

Charlie had managed to do the impossible; he'd gotten under Pansy Parkinson's skin, had broken through the tough exterior and discovered a heart that was willing to let someone in.

"Please tell me it's only us tonight." Ginny whined, "I can't cope with anyone right now."

"It's only us." I smiled as she rubbed her enormous belly, "You okay?"

"No. I'm hot and uncomfortable and I have to pee every two minutes. I don't hate this baby, but I hate that it's still in me." she shifted, looking, as she had said, decidedly uncomfortable, "Distract me.  _Please_? Tell me something that's not baby related."

"Blaise is entertaining Katie Bell tonight." I told her and laughed when she looked at me with wide eyes.

"Seriously?" She was looking excitedly between Draco and me, and then her face turned serious. "He does know if he fucks her over I'll kill him?"

I glanced at Draco, "Oh, I think he's well aware of it. But I don't think you have anything to be worried about. Apparently they've been seeing each other longer than Draco and I have."

"What!?" she cried, "How the hell did they hide it?"

"Well," Draco said with a smirk, "They haven't had people just dropping in on them unannounced."

She scowled at him and told him to  _shut up,_ and then rubbed her hands together, a sly look crawling across her face, "So now it's a race to see who hands out a ring first _."_

"Ginny really? This again?" Draco shook his head, "I told you to stop pressuring Hermione into asking me to marry her."

Harry chuckled, "Don't tempt her, Malfoy. You know she'll do it."

Draco grinned at me. Little did they know that we had discussed our future and we were pretty much on the same page; we wanted to be together indefinitely, but were happy where we were, and neither of us was ready to take that next step just yet.

Ginny groaned and pressed her hand to her belly, "Hey kid, my bladder is not a trampoline." She held her hands out to Harry and he pulled her from the chair. She gave him a tight smile, "I hate you."

"I know." He kissed her cheek, and watched her walk down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"How are you really, Potter?" Draco asked when she was out of earshot.

"I'd rather fight another war," He grimaced, "That was way less terrifying than this."

"You'll be fine," I assured him, "You've been brilliant all the way through this."

"Maybe, but we'll have a baby any day now, and I have no idea what to do." He said glancing down the hallway. "And I can't ask _you,_ like I usually do."

"Sorry," I offered and patted his arm. It was a feeble response, but he was right; other than the basics, I had no idea about any of this.

He waved off my response and leaned back in the chair, "So, I do have some good news." he started and looked between us both, "Demetrius Brach has been caught."

Draco sat up straight, "What!? When?"

"Two days ago. We finally caught up with him hiding in a small shed in a field in the middle of nowhere in Ireland. He hadn't stayed anywhere for longer than a day, two at the most, but I guess he got tired of running."

"Two days ago? And you're only telling us now?"

I touched his arm, "Draco," I said gently, "I'm sure there's a reason."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, it took two days to get a confession out of him. We had him on the counterfeit charges, but we wanted him on the harassment ones as well."

"And...?" I asked, a little too hopeful.

"He confessed." Harry said, "Called you both every name under the sun, but you won't have to worry about him again."

Draco let out a long exhale, the weight of the last few months had been weighing heavily on him, and he had hardly left my side, despite the reassurances the Aurors had given us regarding our safety.

The letters had continued to arrive for a couple even after we knew that Lucius had nothing to do with them.

We'd learned to ignore them, but the nasty, derogatory comments still bit hard. And they were arriving at least once a week. Harry had been certain that they were coming from Demetrius, but with very little proof, he had struggled to get The Ministry to allow a trace to be put on him.

Finally they had relented, but as Harry said, Demetrius was jumping from place to place quicker than they could apparate. But clearly he had run out of hiding places, and my relief at his capture equalled Draco's.

"Thank you, Potter." Draco said with a nod.

Ginny returned, and seeing the look on her face, I shot up out of my chair. "Gin?"

She gripped the door frame, her eyes were wide and she was taking deep breaths, "I think it might be time."

Harry was by her side in an instant and Draco's face had gone pale, but her eyes never left mine. She reached for my hand and I smiled.

"What do you need?" I asked, and she shook her head frantically, clearly unsure. I squeezed her hand gently, "Do you need to go to the hospital now?"

"I don't know," she whispered, "I think my water broke when I was in the bathroom."

"Okay," I said, really not sure if that was particularly urgent, but something in her tone led me to assume it was.

I looked at Harry, his face had drained of all its colour and I was slightly concerned that he was about to pass out. Draco had managed to get himself under control and gripped Harry's shoulder.

"Maybe you could go and get her bag, and I'll stay here with her."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said but remained rooted to the spot.

I shot Draco a " _please help"_ look, and nodded towards the cottage, indicating that he should go with him. He clapped Harry on the back, startling him out of his stupor.

"Come on, Potter. Let's get what she needs and get her to the hospital."

"You have to stay with me," Ginny said to me the second they apparated, "You can't leave me alone."

I patted her hand and winced as what I assumed was a contraction hit her. She gritted her teeth and breathed in and out in a focused rhythm.

"Harry is terrified," she said when the pain subsided, "He'll pass out and I'll be on my own."

"I'm sure he won't be that bad."

"He's not hiding anything." She said and began pacing, telling me that it was perfectly fine to do when I insisted that she sit down. "He's read more books, and asked more questions than I have, and he's still in a blind panic. He thinks he's hidden how scared he is. He hasn't."

"Ginny—"

"No," She said through gritted teeth, "I need you with me, and you will not say no."

"Ah, okay then." I said and took a step back from her and held my hands up. "I'll come with you."

"Hermione?" Harry looked confused, "You're coming with us?"

I nodded, "Apparently Ginny wants me to stay with her. I hope that's okay?"

He looked at Ginny and then back to me, and I noted the look of relief on his face, "If that's what she wants."

Draco chuckled and I glared at him. He knew that the last place I wanted to be was with Ginny and Harry when this baby was being born. But right at that moment, Ginny looked as scary as all hell, and I wasn't going to tell her no.

"You can stay here, Malfoy," Ginny said.

"Whatever you need, Gin." He said too sweetly and I glared at him again. "Best you all be off then."

I watched as Harry and Ginny stepped into the floo and disappeared. I turned on Draco and shoved my finger in his chest, "You will come and rescue me. One hour. And if you're not there, I will come home and punch your stupid face."

"One hour. Got it." He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

I stepped into the floo and called out my destination, scowling as I heard him yell ' _have fun!'_ as I disappeared.

* * *

 

"Breathe, Ginny. Breathe."

Harry's voice was calm and soothing. It was as if the hospital had magically changed him from a complete jabbering mess to the sensible man I knew him to be. As Ginny's labour progressed, he became less and less nervous and more in control. And thankfully, I could take a step back, and not have to witness the events close up.

Ginny's focus had shifted from me and back to Harry. Her eyes had barely left his for the last hour, and I wondered if I could sneak out and not be noticed doing so.

I did, however, love watching them together during this moment. The quiet whispers, Harry's gentle touches, the way he rubbed her back and reassured her she was doing an amazing job. And I'd had to hold back my laughter at his grimaces of pain when Ginny squeezed his hand with each contraction.

My heart skipped a beat and a flood of emotion wormed its way through my chest. I swallowed hard and took several deep breaths. My thoughts were suddenly not about Harry and how perfect he was being. Instead they had turned to Draco, and I wondered if this was what he would be like with me.

Would he be sweet and reassuring? Would he hold my hand like Harry was doing? Would he kiss my forehead and tell me I was amazing?

My hand slipped instinctively to my stomach, and I took a deep breath. I was adamant that I was not ready for any of this yet, but watching my two friends as they brought their baby into the world together left me with an ache that I hadn't experienced before. I tried to tamp down the flood of emotions, but found it impossible to do, and I was filled with the need to see him, to be close to him, to have his arms wrapped around me, comforting me like Harry was doing.

Suddenly the room felt too small, to constricting, and I needed to be anywhere but here. I kissed Ginny's forehead, "I'll just be outside," I said quietly and she nodded.

"You can stay," Harry told me but I shook my head.

"This should be just the two of you." I squeezed his shoulder, "You'll be fine. Both of you."

I leaned on the wall outside the room, trying to slow my racing heart. I was clueless as to where all these new thoughts had come from. Was it just a surge of emotion of having seen Ginny so happy being pregnant? And now, despite the pain she was currently experiencing, so obviously delighted that very soon her baby would welcomed with so much love and excitement?

Why the hell had I agreed to go into that room with them? It was stupid of me. Just hours ago, these thoughts were only an occasional blip in my mind and usually only occurred when Draco brought up the subject of marriage and children. But this time, as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the feelings that I had once given very little thought to.

But the more I thought about it, the more the emotions built. I sighed, knowing that he would be out there, waiting for me. I schooled my features, not wanting him to see the insanity that was building inside me. I walked down the hall to the small waiting room and was surprised to find not only Draco there waiting for me, but Molly and Arthur sitting opposite him. I wondered how long they had all been there, and just how awkward it had been.

"Hermione," Molly stood and engulfed me, "How are you, dear?"

I looked over her shoulder at Arthur who was smiling nervously at me. I hadn't seen either of them since Ron and I split. It wasn't that I hadn't wanted to see them, but it had been easier to stay away, and in truth, I had been as nervous about seeing them as Arthur looked right now. I wasn't sure how they would react. I assumed that they would both be horrified at their son's behaviour, but he was still their son.

"I'm well, Molly," I said hugging her back, "It's lovely to see you."

She stepped back and held me at arm's length, "You look radiant."

My eyes flicked quickly to Draco, "Thank you. How are you?"

"Couldn't be better, my dear," Her face twitched, "And I'm sorry—"

I held up my hand, "No. Can we not? Not here, not today."

She nodded, her face flushing, and she gave me another quick hug before stepping back and allowing Arthur to give me a hug.

"We are sorry," He whispered and I nodded.

"I know." I assured him.

I took a seat next to Draco and leaned my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and pressed his cheek to the top of my head.

"Okay?" he whispered and I simply nodded.

But I wasn't. I was so far from okay it scared me. I thought that stepping out of the room would have rid me of my thoughts, made me less sentimental, but having his arms around me just seemed to make things worse. I wanted to run, wanted to be back in my cottage, hidden away and safe from the insane thoughts that were making my heart race and my palms sweat.

But I couldn't run. Not with Molly and Arthur here, not with a baby being born just down the hall. And I knew that if I did run, Draco would be right behind me, and a conversation that I wasn't ready to have would occur.

I closed my eyes, hoping that they would all assume I was exhausted, which wasn't far from the truth. Three hours watching Ginny and trying to reassure her  _was_ exhausting. Of course it was nothing compared to what she was currently experiencing, and I felt guilty for even comparing. But my nerves were so frayed that I was struggling to keep my tears at bay.

I felt his lips on the top of my head and his arm tighten around me. He knew something was wrong, but with Molly and Arthur sitting just a few feet away, there was no way he could ask me.

I was surprised when Arthur and Draco began conversing quietly, seeming to pick up the conversation that I had apparently interrupted. They chatted idly about Draco's work, and Molly's chuckles at Arthur's latest muggle artefact problems made me smile. I missed them both more than I had realised.

But while they chatted easily, for me time seemed to stand still. I couldn't seem to wrap my brain around the fact that in such a short span of time I had gone from not wanting to be married and have children, to it suddenly being the only thing I did want.

I squeezed my eyes closed tighter and exhaled slowly. I knew I was being terribly rude, but I also knew that if I attempted to talk, the tears I was struggling to hold at bay would definitely fall.

"Hey," Draco said quietly, "This might take a while, did you want to get some coffee?"

I nodded, it was all I could do. It was the perfect escape for him to find out what was bothering me. I stood, and saw the looks of concern on Molly and Arthur's faces, but I simply smiled and began to move away. Draco told Molly and Arthur that we wouldn't be long, and then followed beside me, taking my hand in his and squeezing gently.

"Can we go home?" I asked quietly.

"Is that what you need?"

I nodded, "It is."

He lifted our linked hands to his lips and placed a kiss on my fingers, then led us towards the floo. "You go first."

I stepped into the fireplace and turned to look at him. He was smiling, but his eyes were full of concern. I called out my destination and watched his face as I disappeared, dreading the conversation that we were about to have.

* * *

****** DRACO ******

* * *

I watched as she stepped into the floo, watched as she turned to face me, her face distraught, her eyes blinking back tears.

The instant she had walked into the waiting room, I knew there was something wrong. I had mistakenly assumed that she would have been delighted that Ginny wanted her with them, but either it had been all too much for her in the delivery room, or it was something else entirely.

She had managed to hold herself together for Molly and Arthur's sake, but I knew that if they had not been there, we would have left instantly.

I waited half a minute – steadying my nerves and wondering what was going on in her head – before stepping into the floo.

I wasn't expecting her to be waiting for me, I knew her all too well. So I climbed the stairs to the third floor, and found her staring out the windows at the ocean that she was so enamoured with.

"Hermione?"

She turned to face me, "I can't do this Draco. I can't." Her words were choked. Tears streamed down her face and nose was running. Her face was splotchy and she was a mess, and I hadn't seen her looking so vulnerable since our first meeting in the sand a year ago. "I can't have a baby. It's not..."

I stopped short. I wasn't expecting that. Adrenaline surged through me, was she...?

I watched as her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, covering her face with her hands. I crouched down in front of her, resting my hands on her knees.

"It's not,  _what?"_ I asked her gently, despite the fact that my heart was racing. I knew she wasn't ready for this, she had told me repeatedly, but I was more than ready. I wanted her carrying my baby, wanted my ring on her finger, wanted her with me until the day we took our last breaths.

She leaned her head back on the window and closed her eyes. I simply waited while she tried to control her breathing, her hiccups slowing. After what seemed like forever, she finally opened her eyes. I smiled at her. But she exploded.

"It's not what I want! I'm not an oven for you to plant your seed and make a thousand babies in! I'm not that and  _won't_ be that. I won't give up my job just to satisfy your need to continue your precious name!" she clenched her jaw and I saw the anguish flicker across her face. This wasn't anger at me. It was anger at Weasley. It was clear that he saw her in only one way, and that was as the mother of his children.

I wanted to pull her to me. Wanted to hold her, wanted to touch her. But I resisted. It wasn't what she needed. She needed to be angry, she needed to be a crying mess. I left my hands on her knees, "Hermione. Look at me."

She sniffed and wiped her hand across her face, but her eyes remained trained on the floor.

So as not to startle her, I slowly moved one hand to her chin, lifting it gently and making her look at me. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, but she was at least looking in my direction. I kept my voice steady and told her, "You're not an oven, and my name isn't as precious to me as you think. I know how much you love your job. Of course you can keep working, you don't have to give up anything for me. I would never ask you to. You know that."

She looked at me, wide-eyed, and nodded. I stood and helped her up off the floor, pulling her close when she steadied on her feet.

My heart was still racing, but I had to know, I needed to ask her. "Hermione, are you pregnant?"

She shook her head against my chest and then looked up at me, her face a mixture of disappointment and apology, "No. I'm not."

She closed her eyes and I heard the click of her throat as she swallowed, saw the clench of her jaw. And my heart almost shattered as I saw the tear slip through her lashes.

My chest constricted and my jaw clenched. I wasn't sure how to react, how she wanted me to react. " _Oh-kay,"_ I said slowly, "So what brought this on?"

She stepped out of my arms and turned back to the window. "Nothing, it's just...stupid," she whispered.

I pressed my hand against her back and her breath shuddered, "It's not nothing if you're this upset. And I'm sure it's not stupid. Did something happen with Ginny?"

"No, it's all me." She looked at me with watery eyes and shook her head, a tiny smile curling her lips, "I was in that room with them, watching Harry. He was so perfect, holding her hand and telling her she was amazing. And all I could think about was if that was me, what you would do, how would you be?"

"And how did you imagine me being?"

"Perfect," she said, "You're always so perfect, and you watching me giving birth to our baby would be no different."

I smiled at her.  _Our baby._  I loved hearing her say the words.

I watched as her temper flared again, her face annoyed at my simple reaction. "Why are you being so calm about this?"

I took her hands in mine, looking her directly in the eyes.

"When I was eleven, I saw a girl on a train and I instantly fell in love with her. But imagine my distress when I discovered that she was a mudblood." I looped a strand of hair behind her ear, hoping that she understood that my use of the derogatory term was tender and sweet, not out of anger. "I taunted her and teased her and said some truly awful things to her for the next seven years, but it was only to disguise my complete love and adoration for her. And now, standing in front of her while she has a meltdown, I just want her to understand that since I repressed those feelings for so long, I now just want to be kind, and patient, and show her that she is my everything."

I moved my hands to cup her face as she struggled to hold back her tears.

"Hermione," I whispered, "You keep telling me I'm too perfect, but I'm not, not by a long shot. But please let me try to be the man I should have been, the man who isn't an arsehole, the man who gets a second chance to tell you all those things I wanted to tell you all those years ago. The man who just wants you."

She paused momentarily, searching my face, and then threw her arms around my neck, and I felt her hot tears soak into my shirt. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and rubbed my hand in soothing circles across her back, rocking her gently. She shivered, and I dropped a kiss to her crown. She tilted her head back, tears were dancing in her eyes, but she was smiling.

"I'm not pregnant, Draco." She whispered, "But I want to be."

My heart stopped, and the room suddenly became a tiny world that held just me and her. "Hermione, Do you mean...?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, "Yes."

"Are you sure?" I whispered, and then kissed her when she nodded again. "Hermione, are you really sure? You have to give up a lot more than me, and I don't want to push—"

She pressed her finger to my lips and smiled up at me. Her face was calm, her eyes were bright.

"I'm ready, Draco." She cupped my cheek and I closed my eyes hardly able to believe what she was saying. "I want to have your baby."


	23. Chapter 23

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

Draco stepped up behind me, slipping his hands around my waist and pulling me gently against him. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and relaxed into him feeling my body calm at his presence. I had been feeling off all day and it seemed that only his being near me settled me.

"What are you thinking?"

I ran my hand along his forearm, "Nothing really. Just taking it all in."

"Do you need a drink?"

I shook my head, "No. I'm okay."

"You've been awfully quiet today," He murmured against my ear, "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded, "I just feel a bit  _bleh,_ that's all. I'll be fine."

He kissed my neck, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I reached back and caressed his cheek, "Just a busy couple of days dealing with this wedding, I'm sure I'll be fine after a solid night's sleep."

He huffed out a quiet laugh against my neck, "Won't be tonight, I promise you that."

I pinched his arm playfully, "Yeah, that's what you think."

We stood quietly, watching as Pansy and Charlie stared at each other as they danced, completely oblivious to the rest of us in the room. Pansy looked incredible, her pearlescent sheath gown was beautiful in its simplicity and hugged her curves in a way that had Charlie refusing to leave her side since she had walked down the aisle.

"He does know what he's gotten himself into?"

I chuckled, "They've been together long enough, I'm sure he's well aware."

And we all knew he  _was aware._ Charlie was as besotted with Pansy as she was with him, and the current expression on his face told me that he was ready for anything she could throw at him. And there was something in the look of complete adoration on Pansy's face that had a warmth spreading through me and making my heart pound.

"Are you feeling up to dancing with me?" Draco asked.

I turned to face him, "But you don't dance Mr. Malfoy."

He laughed, " _Ah,_ but I'm sure you're aware that I dance for the right woman."

I rolled my eyes, and then tangled my fingers into his, "The right woman had better be me."

He lifted my arm and twirled me onto the dance floor, "Have you ever seen me dancing with anyone else?"

"No," I said with a small shake of my head.

He placed his hands on my lower back, pulling me against him and I leaned into him, pressing my nose against his neck and breathing him in. He kissed my temple and I sighed.

"What's going on?" He asked quietly.

"Nothing," I told him, hoping that he wouldn't keep pressing me. As usual, he sensed something was wrong, but I hoped that he would believe me when I said I was just tired. "I've spent the entire day with Pansy, and not seen you. I've missed you, that's all."

I knew from his silence that he didn't believe me and there was no way that he would let this slide. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and his tone warning, "Hermione."

I lifted my head, "Draco,  _please_  just leave it."

He frowned at me, and then nodded, "You will tell me?"

"Later," I whispered and leaned my head back on his chest.

For two long years we had tried and I'd not gotten pregnant. We had assumed – incorrectly – that since we were brilliant at most things, making a baby would be a breeze. But it had been something that we had failed at. We had tried to stay positive and not let our failure be our focus, but as the months turned into a year, and then two, we had all but given up.

And just three months ago, we had decided to stop trying, decided to give ourselves the space to breathe again and take away some of the pressure we had put on ourselves. But as it seemed was always the way when a mutual decision like that had been made, I was now pregnant.

I had only realised two days before when I had met with Pansy to finalise some last minute wedding concerns she had, and she offered me tea. I had screwed my nose up and my stomach had churned at the mere thought of drinking it, and the realisation hit me.

I had managed to sneak off and find myself a muggle pregnancy test – knowing that Draco would have no idea what it was if he did happen to find it - and when the two pink lines appeared, a sense of relief had filled me and two years of frustration and disappointment left me in an instant. And I knew that  _this_ baby was the one that we were meant to have.

But with the wedding less than 48 hours away, I didn't want to let my news overshadow their day. So I kept my secret to myself, wanting so much to tell Draco, but knowing that even though I would insist that we wait to tell anyone, his own excitement would not be contained.

I felt his chin rest on the top of my head, "I love you, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And we will be next."

I snorted against his chest, "You have to ask me first."

"I will."

I looked up at him, "You keep saying that."

He managed to look indignant, despite the grin on his face, "I'm just waiting for the perfect moment."

"So in the three years we've been together, the perfect moment hasn't cropped up?"

He shook his head, "Nope."

I rolled my eyes and then laughed, tucking my head under his chin again, "I won't wait forever, Malfoy. If you don't ask me soon, I'll steal your thunder."

* * *

I stepped out of the floo to a smiling Draco, but the dizzying vortex had not been kind and I barely managed to make it to the bathroom, landing on my knees and hunching over the toilet, before losing the contents of my stomach.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Draco asked from the doorway.

I flushed the toilet and sat back against the bathtub, rolling my head back and closing my eyes. I felt his hands on my knees and smiled.

"Hermione?" His voice sounded worried, and I guess after my evasiveness, he had every right to be. "I told you to stay away from James."

I opened my eyes and frowned, "What?"

"Ginny said he's been sick, clearly you've gotten whatever he had."

I chuckled and patted his cheek, "You're cute." I grimaced and then leaned over the toilet again, my stomach lurching.

Draco reached up to the basin and filled a glass with water before handing it to me. I smiled weakly at him, shifting so my back was against the bath. I sipped the water slowly, hoping it would stay down, and smiled as Draco moved to sit beside me.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, "It's not James."

"What is it then?"

I took his hand in mine, "Draco, I'm—" My hand flew to my mouth and I was back over the toilet bowl, cursing the stupid floo network. I'd hadn't felt sick at all, not until tonight.

I let out a shaky breath and sat back down beside him. His face was pale; I knew he had a weak stomach when it came to anyone being sick **,** but he was doing his best to not show it.

He brushed my hair from my face, and I smiled up at him. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you, but Draco…you're going to be a daddy."

He was silent, just staring at me, and the emotion I saw in his eyes was something I had never seen before. He looked awed, looked completely at a loss for words.

"Draco?"

"What did you just say?" His voice was barely a whisper; his eyes looked as though he could hardly believe what I was saying.

I took his hand and placed it on my stomach, "I said you're going to be a daddy."

"You're sure?" he asked and I noticed that tears had begun to form in his eyes.

I nodded, "It's early, really early. But yes, I'm pregnant."

I was in his arms in an instant, held tight to his chest, and feeling as though he would never let me go. He buried his face in my neck, and I heard the quickening of his breath as his emotions welled and then exploded in tears on my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling my own emotions form in a lump in my throat. I hadn't expected to tell him here, not on the floor of the bathroom while I threw my guts up into the toilet, but his reaction was so amazingly precious, now I couldn't imagine a more perfect way to tell him.

He tugged at my dress, and I shifted my hips, knowing exactly what he wanted. He wanted to touch my bare skin, wanted to be as close as possible to the tiny life inside me. He yanked my dress over my head, and I stifled a laugh. Ordinarily after ripping my clothes from me he would be focused solely on my underwear and getting me out of it, but in that moment he only had eyes for my stomach.

He pressed his hand gently against me, his thumb sliding over my bare skin. His cheeks were wet with tears, but he was smiling.

I caressed his cheek, "Hey, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

He lifted his face to mine, leaning in to capture my mouth with his, kissing me long and slow, his hand never leaving my belly. He pulled back, looking down again, "I knocked you up, huh?"

I slapped his shoulder, but laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck, "You knocked me up."

"When did you find out?"

I shrugged guiltily at him, "I took a test two days ago, but I didn't want to overshadow Pansy's day."

He frowned at me, "And how would you have done that?"

"Not me,  _you."_

"How would I—"

I kissed him quickly, "You would have hovered over me all night and everyone would have suspected something."

He opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, knowing I was right. He had been more anxious, more frustrated than I had been.

In one particularly heated discussion we'd had, he'd pointed out that while I had been blaming myself, he had been doing the same. And he had been right; I'd been so adamant that everything was my fault that I hadn't realised that he had been torturing himself with the fact that the reason we hadn't gotten pregnant might be because of him.

******* DMHG *******

_"Hey, I have a surprise for you."_

_I smiled at him, but my heart wasn't in it. It had been yet another month and once again my period had arrived, signalling another yet failure._

_"We're headed away for a week in Prague. We leave on Sunday."_

_My eyes went wide, "But we...I can't," I stammered, "I can't leave the greenhouses, not now. We have too many plants that need attention."_

_"Hannah and Olsen are perfectly capable of looking after everything for you." He said._

_"No! You can't ask them to do that," My voice rose in anger._

_"Why not?" He asked me, his own voice sharp, as if this was not the reaction he had expected._

_"Because I'm not some delicate flower that needs to hide because life is shitty!" I yelled._

_"I never said you were." He retorted._

_"You don't have to say it," I touched my stomach, "Every time this happens, you tiptoe around me, treating me as if I'm going to break! I don't need to run away and hide. I just—"_

_He cut me off, his voice sharp and angry, "You do realise that this is not just about you? That maybe I am just as devastated? Have you even thought about that? Are you even aware that while you're blaming yourself, I'm angry and frustrated that I can't get you pregnant? That maybe I'm the problem, not you?"_

_My eyes went wide with shock, "Draco I-"_

_"I hate seeing you so disappointed and upset. But what I hate more is that it might be my fault!" He snapped, "You know what? If you don't want to go to Prague, we won't. We'll just fucking stay here and be miserable, and go through all this again in another month!" He stormed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door._

_I was stunned. Draco was right, I hadn't realised how hard this had been on him, that he was blaming himself as much as I blamed myself, probably more so. The fact that any issues we were having may have been because of him had never occurred to me. I had put it all on myself, and he had hidden his own feelings to protect me and I hadn't realised._

_I took several deep breaths and waited a full minute before heading to the bedroom. I opened the door tentatively, not sure what I'd find, but the view almost broke my heart. He was sitting on the end of the bed his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as a year and a half of tears fell from his eyes._

_I walked over to him, and brushed my hand through his hair, "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm so sorry."_

_"What if we can't? What if there's something wrong and we can't have a baby together?" His voice was muffled by his hands._

_I sat beside him wrapping my arm across his back, "So be it." I almost sobbed._

_"No, that's not your answer." He looked at me, "Try again."_

_My own tears spilled over and I took shuddering breath, "I would be devastated."_

_He pulled me onto his lap, my legs falling either side of his. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face to my neck, "So would I."_

_"I'm so sorry Draco. I've been so angry at myself, I forgot you were involved in this as well. I never even considered how you felt or that you were blaming yourself."_

_"Don't apologise," He said softly, "There's no blame on either of us. We're in this together."_

_I leaned back to look at his face, "I'm still sorry," I said, "I'm the one who said we shouldn't be disappointed if this didn't happen straight away, and look how I've been acting."_

_"You're allowed to be disappointed," He sighed, "But I think our expectations have been too high and we've both put too much pressure on ourselves."_

_My mouth twitched, "Yeah, because we never do that."_

_He huffed out a tiny breath of laughter, and pulled me back into him, "And I know it's not helping with Ginny."_

_I winced slightly. Ginny was about six months into her second pregnancy, I was excited for her, of course I was, but I still felt like I was failing and I hated myself for hating her just a little bit._

_I relaxed into his chest, wrapping my around his shoulders, "So, Prague?"_

_"Only if you want to."_

_"I think it's what we need,"_ _I ran my fingers along the nape of his neck, "I'm sorry I forgot about you."_

_"That's okay, your mind was elsewhere."_

_"I know, but I think that's part of the problem. We've been so concentrated on this baby thing, we've forgotten each other. Promise me we'll never do that again."_

_He kissed me gently, "I promise."_

*******DMHG *******

Prague hadn't been the miracle we'd hoped, but it had allowed us to forget about anything but the two of us for a week. And when we had come home, we'd both felt recharged, patient and much calmer, felt like all the frustration that had been building had left and we'd been able to just get back to us.

And now, here we were, just a few months later, pregnant with our first child.

Draco stood and helped me up from the floor. He wrapped me in his arms, holding me with a gentleness that had the lump returning to my throat. "We're having a baby, Hermione." He whispered into my hair, "This is unbelievable."

"I know," I whispered back and the enormity of it suddenly sunk in. I'd not really had the chance to think about it much more than the two lines on the test, and how I would tell Draco. But now, I had said the words out loud. Had told him he was going to be a dad, had watched his reaction and now I could actually realise the truth that I was pregnant with his child. With  _our_ child. Tears sprang to my eyes and I gripped his shirt in my fist. His hand came up to cup my head, and he kissed my forehead. "We're having a baby, Draco."

I heard the smile in his voice when he said, "Yeah we are."

* * *

"Is he in there?" I stopped in front of Erica's desk and stabbed my finger in the direction of Draco's office.

Erica grinned and quirked an eyebrow, "What did he do?"

I clenched my jaw, "More like 'what did he do  _this time'"_

She laughed, "Head on in. His schedule is clear for,  _oh,_ the next hour."

I tapped my fingers on her desk, "Don't let anyone in?"

She nodded, "Should I have a healer on standby?"

I pretended to consider her offer, "No. He can just bleed to death on the floor."

She was still laughing when I shut his office door behind me.

Draco shot out of his chair as I stalked across to him, "Hermione, are you okay?

"Sit," I told him and threw my hand in the air. The ripple of magic floated across the room as the silencing charm took hold.

"Hermione, what—"

I put my hand on my hips and glared at him, "I said, sit."

He held his hands up in surrender and sat back in his chair. I sat opposite him, crossing one leg over the other, seeing his eyes drop to the hem of my skirt as it rode up my thigh.

I swallowed, hard. He'd been so cautious with me, so gentle and tender, nothing like the rough and domineering man I had fallen in love with. But the current look in his eyes and the flare of his nostrils had me almost forgetting why I had come here.

"What did I do?" he asked when he finally dragged his eyes from my legs.

I bit back my smile. "You're hovering," I said, trying to keep the snark in my voice. I wanted to be angry at him, but the fact the he knew that I was annoyed about something made it hard.

In the three weeks since we'd learned I was pregnant, he'd spent most of his days constantly checking in on me in the greenhouses. I had insisted that we keep our little secret just between us for a few more weeks, so for the first few days I had let it slide, knowing that he was simply concerned. But with the amount of hovering he was doing I was almost certain that everyone suspected something.

"Sorry," he said giving me one of his patented smiles that always brought me to my knees.

I sighed and stood, stepping around his desk to stand in front of him. I leaned my hips on the edge of the desk and took his hand in mine. "I know you're just worried, but you have to stop. If everyone hasn't already guessed, they will soon."

"He leaned forward and gently touched my stomach. "And I have good reason to be worried. I know you Hermione, you don't think anything can stop you, and I love you for that. But we've waited so long for this, I don't want anything to hurt you or the baby."

"And nothing will. Especially not me." I kissed him, "And I've missed you."

His brow furrowed, "You've missed me? What... _oh."_

"Three weeks, Draco, and you've not fucked me once." I gave him a pointed look, "Why is that?"

His cheeks went pink, "I... _ah..._ don't want to do anything to damage the baby."

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing and patted his cheek, "You're big, Draco, but not  _that big."_

"You're laughing at me?"

"I am," I nodded, "Because you're incredibly sweet and thoughtful, but also incredibly idiotic."

He squeezed my fingers, "This is all new and I have no idea…" he shrugged, "About any of it."

I smiled at his confession, "I know. It's all new for me too. But what I do know is that we won't do our baby any harm by having sex. Because if you think I'm going seven more months without you fucking me, you'd be wrong."

He let go of my hand and touched my knee, "So what you're saying is, that if I went a bit higher," he slid his hand along the inside of my thigh and I could see a faint fire flaring in his eyes, "I might find out just how much you missed me?"

I inhaled deeply; I hadn't seen this coming. "You might, but aren't there rules about this?"

He pulled his hand away, but instinctively I grabbed it and brought it back to me. He huffed out a smug laugh, "We gave up on those rules a long time ago."

His hands pushed my skirt higher, his thumbs brushing gently over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I tensed and looked to the door; Erica's word was good, but I was fully aware that someone could try to come in and see Draco at any moment. I flicked my hand and heard the click as the lock turned. Draco chuckled and I turned back to him. His expression was wild and the fire in his eyes had turned into pure desire. His adorable stupidity had blinded him; he wanted this as much as I did.

I raised my hips as he shoved at my skirt, pushing it up so it was bunched around my waist, sucking in a breath when he saw my underwear. He glanced up at me, pupils dilated, eyebrows raised.

I grinned at him. The white lace triangle of my thong covered me, and that was it. The tiny strings of cloth were tied in bows at the sides and I saw his fingers twitching to tug them free. I had planned to tease him at home,  _after_ work, but now was as good a time as any.

He ran the tip of his finger over the lace of my underwear, dragging it slowly from the band at my waist and pressing on my clit on his way down between my legs. I sighed in relief, not caring in the slightest that we really shouldn't be doing this here; it felt so completely wrong, but also completely right.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against my ear as he slid his finger back up, pressing at my clit. "I just want to take care of you."

"I know," I said fumbling with his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping, and reaching in to find him half hard. His hands left me for several seconds to shove at his pants, pushing them down his legs letting them pool around his feet. I encased his cock in my hand, sliding down and then back up, loving the shudder that wracked his body. "But you need to  _take care_ of me as well."

He smiled, "Do you want my mouth?"

I shook my head, looking down to where his hand was untying the tiny ribbons on each of my hips. I looked back up at him, taking his hand and pressing it against me, "Just your hand."

He kissed me, his fingers gently caressing my slick folds, and I shuddered at his touch. It had been too long and I was a bomb that was about to explode.

I sucked in a breath, revelling in the soft skin over his granite-like cock while he ran his thumb over my clit. Two fingers thrust into me, causing me to jerk my hips forward and grip him harder in my hand. We both looked down, watching as our hands worked in unison, mine flying over him, his thrusting hard into me.

I placed my free hand behind me, leaning back and lifting my feet to rest on the edge of the desk, spreading my legs wide. He swore, thrusting hard into my hand.

"Granger.  _Shit._ What—"

"Touch me... _there_." I panted, watching his eyes go wide as he realised what I wanted. He dragged his fingers out of me, replacing them with his thumb, and circled my backside with one finger before slowly pressing in. I dropped my head back and not realising I had stopped moving my hand over him, he covered it with his, squeezing hard.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard when we get home." He hissed and fucked into my fist.

I let out my own hissed breath when he pressed his finger and thumb together, the wall of muscle between them feeling a stab of pleasure-pain that was so intense, I felt my eyes burn with tears. I had missed him more that I had realised.

I knew that he had been making up excuses to not do this with me and I'd tried to be patient, tried to make sense of what he was thinking, but I really had no idea. But watching him now, I realised that he'd been scared, terrified of doing anything that might hurt me, or harm his child. My heart slipped into free-fall. He told me every day just how much he loved me, but I was suddenly struck with just how big  _his_ heart really was.

A low throbbing hum built in my belly, spreading downwards and settling between my thighs. I released his cock, and leaned back further, almost laying across his desk, while his hand began to fuck me hard and fast. He added a second finger to my backside, and I exploded instantly, my thighs trembled and my spine snapped, arching and straining, a loud cry ripping out of my throat.

I didn't have time to think before I felt him thrust inside me, his cock filling me while my body still spasmed around him. His hands gripped my hips and I wrapped my legs around him, and groaned at the heavy feeling of him dragging through me.

"Hermione, you feel... _fuck!..._ not missing this again," his thrusts became sharp, jabbing into me as he grew wilder, rougher, and I felt my orgasm build again. My spine tingled and I gripped him harder with my thighs. The coil inside me snapped and I exploded again, wet and warm, my hips jerking as I spasmed, my toes curling and the office filling with the sound of his name falling from my lips.

He leaned over me, holding himself up on his hands, grinding into me, over and over until he started to tense. "You like this? You like me fucking you like this?"

I reached up and fisted his shirt, nodding quickly and lifting my head to watch him fuck me. He snapped his hips, and he threw his head back screwing his eyes shut. He groaned, a loud, throaty growl, as his cock twitched and he came inside me. He dropped his head to my chest, his cock still pulsing, his breath hot and warm through my shirt. I ran my hand through is hair and stifled a giggle. He looked up at me, his own face coloured with amusement.

"What happened to 'home'?"

He shrugged, "That will still happen."

"Not scared then?"

"No. Not scared," He placed his hand on my belly, "But you two are the most important things in my life and I will do everything I can to protect you both, whether you like it or not."

I sat up and wrapped my arms around his neck, "And we love that you will do that for us. But you and me," I winked at him, "Will be doing more of that. Much more."

He kissed my lips, soft and gentle, sliding a single finger through the mess dripping out of me, "Fucking on my desk in the middle of the day? '" He nodded slowly, "I can definitely handle that."


	24. Chapter 24

****** DRACO ******

* * *

A very loud, _very_ undignified snore woke me with a start. I was covered in a sheen of sweat, and was hot. Too hot. I looked down, realising that I was cocooned in the bed covers. All of them.

I kicked them off and rolled to my side, chuckling at the sight. Hermione was out cold, laying on her side, one arm curled beneath her pillow, the other stretched out, pushing me away. The cute squeaky sound she usually made when she slept had all but disappeared, replaced with a sound not unlike an angry grizzly bear. But at least the sprawling way she usually slept had stopped. Now, once she was asleep, she barely moved.

Another snore vibrated out of her and she shoved at me in her sleep, her legs kicking at the covers that she had already piled over me. I glanced towards the window and was surprised to see that it wasn't open. She had been hot and uncomfortable the last few nights - well, actually she'd been hot and uncomfortable for the last month - and as I had been repeatedly told, since it was entirely my fault, I would have to deal with the icy winter winds blowing into our bedroom.

I shifted closer to her - she would probably angrily shove me away, but I didn't care. I loved her like this, beside me in bed sleeping soundly. She had been doing so for several years now, but this was different. This was my entire family right here with me.

Her tank had ridden up, exposing the swell of her giant belly, and I ran my hand over her warm skin, as I did as often as I could, and smiled as a foot or hand pushed out against my palm. I loved feeling our baby inside her, loved the kicks and bumps, loved how the tiny movements gave me the chance to be a part of our baby's life.

It had been an unexpected tug on my heart the first time I felt it, just a tiny jab against my hand, gone as soon as I registered what I had felt. Hermione had laughed at my surprise - she had been feeling the movements for weeks before I could - and she'd had to become accustomed, sometimes begrudgingly so, to my hand constantly touching her, wanting to feel exactly what she was.

I moved down the bed so I was level with her belly and pressed my lips to her stretched skin.

"Hey, little one," I whispered, "Are you awake?"

The first time I'd talked to her stomach I had felt ridiculous. I'd come across Hermione chatting happily to the vacant living room one evening and thought she'd gone mad. But she had explained that she was talking to the baby because it was able to hear everything and she wanted it to know all about music and books and magic and the sea outside our door. I'd assumed she was having me on, but after reading several books on the subject, I'd discovered that my son or daughter would most definitely recognise my voice the more I spoke.

So I had begun to do the same, chatting to both Hermione and the baby about my day, reading to it when Hermione was too exhausted to do so, and feeling less idiotic each time I did, until it had become a part of our daily lives.

I pushed gently against her, feeling the baby press back against me, "I can't wait to meet you, so if it's not too much to ask, feel free to join us any day."

I felt a hand in my hair, and looked up to find her smiling at me.

"We still have three weeks," she said, "It can take all the time it wants."

I kissed her stomach again and moved up to lay beside her. She had been amazing throughout the entire pregnancy. Unlike both of Ginny's, Hermione had been lucky and had only been sick for a few weeks at the beginning, and it had been smooth sailing until now. She was tired and irritable, her back ached constantly, and she had taken to wearing little more than a cotton tank and sweat pants around the house. And even with the freezing temperatures outside, her feet were always bare.

She looked at the covers piled at the end of the bed. "Sorry," she said, "I probably should just sleep naked."

I ran my hand along the curve of her breast, "I would have zero objections to that."

She leaned into my hand, sighing, "I know you wouldn't."

I propped myself up on one elbow, "Did you want to try that now?"

She laughed and shoved at my chest, "Really? You do  _not_ find me attractive like this."

I cupped her breast, gently stroking my thumb over her nipple, loving the tiny gasp that she tried to tamp down.

It was a pregnancy perk I hadn't been prepared for. Her breasts. They were fuller, lush and pert, and more sensitive than ever. And I had been hard pressed to look anywhere but at them whenever she was near me. And the more her stomach grew, the more attractive I had found her. She was softer, curvier, and even more alluring than when I had first been with her, and I had been a walking hard-on for months.

"That's where you're wrong, Granger." I took her hand and pressed it to my rapidly growing cock. Her eyes went wide and I sniggered, "Is that proof enough?"

"And what if I don't want to?" She teased and then circled her hand around me, letting me know that it was, in fact, exactly what she wanted.

This was another perk that I had thoroughly enjoyed; my horny, pregnant girlfriend. Harry had alluded to the fact, but I truly hadn't believed him. But there had been some days, especially early on, where she would give me that look and we'd have to leave work at lunchtime.

I pinched her nipple. "Then you can just lay there and watch while I pleasure myself." I leaned in close to her ear, "Just don't complain when you can't get yourself off."

She scowled at me, "You don't play fair."

"Do you want me to play fair?" I asked and she laughed again.

"Draco, you cannot honestly want me right now?" She waved her hands, indicating her swollen belly and looking at me with the same disbelief she had every time I had wanted her in last few weeks.

I had seen her naked more times than I could count, but seeing her like she was - pregnant and glowing - was my favourite version of her.

"You are as beautiful now as you have ever been, maybe even more so." I spread my hand over her belly and smiled at her, "And this just makes me want you more."

"Liar," She whispered, her eyes shining in the moonlight spilling into the room.

"Never," I said and threaded my fingers through her wild hair, kissing her slowly, instantly lost in her. I wanted her with the desperation I always felt when she teased me, I wanted to show her just how much her body drove me crazy.

I swept my tongue against hers, and her hands clutched at my hair, a tiny breathy sound spilled into my mouth and I kissed her harder. Our mouths danced, our tongues tangling as the distant sound of rain began to pound against the glass.

My blood simmered just below boiling point and my cock throbbed with the need to be inside her. My hands shoved at her sleep shorts, pushing them down her legs and she kicked them off with her feet. She rolled to her back and I followed, pressing harder into her side, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her throat, sliding my hand over the rise of her belly and then into the soft, damp skin between her thighs.

My fingers found her clit, circling the tight bud, starting out softly, and I murmured against her lips, telling her how much I wanted her, how beautiful she was, how much I loved her sweet, wet pussy. She groaned, a tight, sexy sound that had my balls tightening and my need for her growing.

I dragged two fingers along her slit, stroking and teasing her, watching her face as she completely surrendered to my touch. "I  _love_ how turned on you get just for me," I circled her clit, increasing the pressure and loving the small shudder that slipped down her spine.

"Draco," she breathed, "I  _love_  your hands."

I nuzzled her neck, running my tongue around her ear, and stilled my hand. "I thought you loved my cock."

She reached down and I grunted when she squeezed me, hard. "Don't you fucking stop!"

I smiled against her skin and plunged my fingers into her. She cried out my name, her fingers curling tighter into my hair.

I trailed my mouth in a slow series of wet kisses down her throat to her collar bone and across the swell of her breast, licking a teasing circle around her nipple, before taking the overly sensitive bud between my teeth. She cried out again, and I bit down gently, all the while keeping my fingers moving slowly in and out of her.

She began to rock her hips in time with my hand, her own hand sliding along the length of me, stroking me and matching the slow rhythm I had set.

"Draco," her hand gripping my hair pressed down, holding me against her breast, "I need more."

My groan was muffled by her soft flesh, but I bit down harder and increased the pace of my hand, feeling her growing wetter with each stroke. I worked her until her breath was raged, twisting my fingers, pumping them in and out of her until her body trembled and she gasped. I pressed my thumb against her clit and her thighs clamped together as every muscle in her body tensed and she climaxed hard around my hand.

I lifted my head to look at her; her eyes were closed and a small smile danced over her lips. I brushed her dampened hair from her forehead and kissed her cheek lightly. "You okay?"

Her smiled widened and slowly opened her eyes, "I hope you're not finished."

I laughed and told her, "Not even close," and shifted away from her, waiting for her to roll to her side, but she didn't move.

"Like this, she said and reached for me. "I want you over me"

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and I grinned. It had been a while since I'd had her under me. We'd discovered an array of new positions when her belly began to grow. She still liked me over her, but I was more cautious, not want to lose control and harm the precious cargo that she carried. I usually took her from behind, either on her knees or lying on her side, or she'd ride me – which I insisted she do as often as she liked.

But I'd missed not looking down and seeing her face as she fell, the beautiful way she would strain and arch under me. Missed the way we would both watch as I slid through her, the way she would open her eyes at the last second and watch me as she fell over the edge.

I settled my knees between her thighs, curling my hands around her hips and tilting her gently towards me. She smiled at me, that sweet smile that was just mine. She reached her hand towards me and I linked my fingers with hers.

"Why do you love me like this?"

I looked at her with same disbelief that she had shown me. She'd thought herself fat in the last few weeks, it was the reason she was constantly asking me why I wanted her so much. And it seemed that every time I did want her, we went through the same routine; her telling me she wasn't beautiful, and me telling her she was wrong.

But now, lying beneath me, she was beyond tempting. She was decadent. She was an indulgence that I still didn't think I deserved. Her skin was soft, dotted with freckles that I had kissed a thousand times or more. Her breasts were perfect, her pink nipples hardened into tight peaks, and ripe for the taking.

I gently ran my hands over them, feeling the tiny peaks grow even stiffer against my palms.

"Every single inch of you is perfection." I whispered to her, "And I hate that you think otherwise."

"But—" she began and I cut her off.

"Granger," I warned, my voice firm. "You should know by now not to argue with me. You are gorgeous." I ran my hands over her stomach, skirting over her hips, down her thighs and back up again, "Your curves are gorgeous, your bump is beautiful, and your tits are fucking amazing."

She let out a small laugh and her voice was breathy when she asked, "Are you going to fuck me?"

I shook my head and simply told her "No."

She shoved at my chest, surprising me, her expression changing instantly from playful to pissed, "If you're not going to fuck me, don't bother." She snapped and squirmed beneath me.

My entire body tensed, "Hermione what—"

She shoved at me again, but I didn't budge, "You've been sweet and charming since I've gotten fat, but I want  _my_ Draco back. My dominant, rough, Draco. And I don't know how many more times I have to ask, but I want you to fuck me. _"_

I stared down at her, shifting my hips back until my only the tip of my cock was inside her. She was looking at me with such anger that I had to smile.

Once more, she was right. I'd become softer with her when her belly began to grow. But as much as I wanted to, and even though she had asked me repeatedly for more, I just couldn't bring myself to be rough and hard with her when the evidence of our baby was on display. I loved making love to her, but she was the most precious being on the planet, and I refused to allow anything to harm her, and that included me.

But she was now looking at me with such frustration and anger, I knew that I'd been failing and not giving her what she truly wanted.

"Am I being sweet and charming, and stupidly idiotic,  _again?"_

"Unbelievably idiotic." She reached up and touched my cheek, "We have three weeks, Draco, and if this baby arrives in the normal way, it could be weeks, even months before we can do this again."

I leaned over her, being careful not to press too hard against her belly. I kissed her and grinned, "Stunningly beautiful  _and_ a genius, how did I get so lucky?"

"Well, luck played its part, but…" She said trailing one finger down my chest, "Once I saw your giant penis, there was no going back."

I chuckled and then sighed, "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and given you what you wanted."

"What I  _needed,_ " she corrected, "And right now, I need you."

I lifted my hand to her breast, "You need me to fuck you?"

She shot me a challenging look, "If you  _think_ you can."

I pulled completely out of her and laughed at the confused look on her face. I climbed off the bed, gripping her ankles, tugging her down the mattress and positioning her at the edge of the bed. I took her in and she was perfection; all naked breasts and belly, making my cock twitch and grow even harder.

I opened her legs, roughly, and stepped between them, not missing the look of satisfaction already glinting in her eyes.

She knew that she'd gotten her way, knew that she'd won. But if rough and dominant were what she wanted, she hadn't won, not yet.

I touched the tip of my cock to the plump, pink paradise that I'd neglected, rubbing and teasing. She whimpered when I tapped the hard ridge against her clit, her fingers clenching at mine, and telling me to ' _never stop.'_

I told her ' _never'_ and curled over her, planting my hands beside her head and push into her, capturing her gasp with my mouth. Her body accepted me easily. Her pussy was hot and wet, and the slide into her felt like heaven.

I shuddered when I was all the way in, holding still, feeling the curve of her belly against me. Her legs wound around my thighs, hands clutching at my shoulders, her voice pleading, telling me to move fast and hard.

"No," I said and she glared up at me. I smirked and threw her words back at her, "You wanted  _your_ Draco back. And  _your_ Draco doesn't play fair."

She growled at me, but I could see the excitement in her eyes.

I gripped her breasts, squeezing roughly, and the sound that she made was exquisite in my ears. The sound of relief and joy and ecstasy all rolled into one tight moan. I kneaded and squeezed and flicked my thumbs over her tight nipple, teasing and taunting, and then, because I knew that she wasn't expecting it, I lightly slap one breast.

She blinked at me in surprise, "What was that for?"

"For being so fucking beautiful," I slapped her again, "For being smarter than me." Slap. "For making me realise how stupid I am." Slap.

Her head rolled to one side, her mouth opening and groaning at my rough hands, "More."

I placed soothing kisses on her reddened skin, then covered one nipple with my mouth, sliding my hand down to where I was buried inside her. I flicked her clit, and she bucked up, her hands flailing, looking for purchase in the bed sheets.

"You like that?" I asked and flicked her clit again. And thrust my hips against her.

She let out a long, low moan, and I grinned, my chest filling with pride.

"Feels so good, baby."

"I know," I said, panting, still plunging through her.

And I suddenly saw  _my_ Hermione _._ This gorgeous woman,  _my_  gorgeous woman, I'd missed her. I'd longed to touch her like this, to tease and play until she was begging me to let her climax, but my own stupidity stopped me again from allowing us to enjoy what we both needed.

And then that was what I did. I gave us both exactly what we needed. My hands gripped her hips and I drove into her, her heat enveloping me, her tight channel pulling me deeper. And,  _Merlin help me,_ she didn't hold back, wrapping her legs tighter around my waist and tugging me closer until I was buried as deep as possible inside her.

A bead of sweat dripped from my hair onto her belly, and I watched as it rolled across her skin and down between her breasts. I curled over her again, tracing my tongue over the salty trail. I pressed my palms to the bed, my hips pistoning fast and hard, just how she wanted, just how she needed. My name came out of her in a growling moan, a sound that was completely filthy and so fucking beautiful at the same time.

"Look at me," I demanded. She was already close, I could see it in her face. " _Granger,_ look at me."

She opened her eyes and met my eyes with a look so sinful I felt a surge of pleasure rocket down my spine and straight to my balls. I clenched my jaw and she chuffed out a laugh.

"You're close," she said and I instantly stopped moving.

"So are you," I said through gritted teeth and she tightened her pussy around me.

"You first," She taunted and squeezed my cock again.

I reached between us and pinched her clit, and she let out a loud yelp. "You will fucking come first," I snarled, "And then if you're lucky, I might let you come again."

Her head rolled back and she unravelled her body unable to hold back under my touch. I watched as pleasure overtook her, her body shuddering and her face twisting, before she clamped down, coming all over me. I remained still, waiting for her to come back down.

She opened her eyes, and gave me a sneaky smile, "Is that all you've got?"

"Maybe I'll just stop now," I threatened, pulling my cock completely out of her, sliding my hand from the base to the tip, "Maybe I'll just let you watch what I've got."

"Draco," she whined, "Put that the fuck back in me!"

I laughed, and then shook my head, plunging back into her, grunting and groaning with her. We were loud and frantic, both barrelling towards a shared release. We moved together, our skin slapping, both covered with sweat.

"Come with me, baby." I leaned over her once more, needing to be close. "Come with me."

Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and she trembled, crying out again, but this time I followed her. My orgasm was intense, a long, drawn out pleasure that felt like it would never end.

She shuddered and I pulled out of her, breathless, and feeling like my shaky legs wouldn't hold me up, dropped to my knees, leaning my cheek against her belly. We both laughed as a tiny foot kicked out against me.

"Sorry little one," I was still breathing hard, "But it's all your mother's fault."

She giggled and I lifted my heavy body from the floor to lay beside her.

"Is that what you needed?"

She caressed my face, "Is that what  _you_ needed?"

I shook my head, "No. I've been quite content to make slow love to you."

"Liar," she chuckled, "You've wanted to do that to me for months. You just got scared again."

I shifted closer, kissing her forehead and breathing in the scent of her freshly fucked skin. I cupped her breast, grimacing at the outline of my fingers on her pale skin.

"See," she whispered lifting my face to hers, "Scared."

"You really like me doing  _this,"_ I ran my fingers over the red mark and then dropped my hand to her round belly, "When you're like  _this_?"

She ran her palm along the scruff on my jaw, "I love you doing that to me any time."

"Well, I'll be sure to remember that for next time." I kissed her, tender and gentle, "Next time I'll fuck you senseless from conception to birth."

She looked startled, " _Ah,_ next time?"

"Oh, there'll definitely be a  _next time."_

Her startled look softened, and she pulled me closer, "You still surprise me every day, do you know that?"

"I want  _children,_  Hermione, not just _a_ child. I know we haven't really discussed it, but I don't want this one to grown up alone," I felt the sharp kick-kick-kick, beneath my palm, "See, even our little one agrees. _"_

* * *

I watched her from the living room window. She was on the beach, her hands shoved in her pockets, the hood of her jumper covering her head to keep the fine mist from her face. She was staring out at the water, not moving, looking very much like the stranger that I had first watched from this very window.

I shook my head, reaching into my pocket and smiling. She had no idea why I had asked her to wait for me, no idea why I wanted to walk across the sand with her. But I wanted to watch her face as I pulled the tiny velvet box from my pocket and asked her to marry me.

But she had once more ignored my request and had stubbornly gone down there without me. I downed the rest of my coffee as I continued to watch her, before I slipped my own jacket on and began the descent down the cliffs. The weather had changed, the winter was rolling in fast, and the wind had picked up, pushing the waves higher and making them hit the sand with loud slaps.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, attempting to block out the wind and the light mist that was sure to become a downpour in the next few hours.

"Hermione?" I called and her head whipped around, her face lighting up. My breath caught in my throat as it always did when I saw her down here. Her feet were bare and her jeans were rolled up, indicating that she had been wading in the freezing water.

"Finally," she said with a wicked grin.

"I told you to wait for me." I mock scolded her, "You know I don't like you coming down here on your own."

She laughed, the sound light and airy on the cold wind. "I tried to wake you, but you were snoring like a grizzly bear."

"Well, if someone hadn't kept me awake half the night..."

"Ah _, you_ woke _me_ up, several times." She shot me an indignant look.

"Only because you  _needed_  me to." I laughed, and leaned towards her, pressing my mouth to hers. Her hand came up and cupped my jaw, holding me to her, wanting more than just a simple hello kiss. She wanted deep and lingering, she wanted heat and raw passion, and I was only too pleased to oblige.

I moved my hand down, feeling her tight belly and she pulled away from my mouth, covering my hand with her own.

"Our little one loves it down here, you know that."

And I did.

The baby that was growing inside her seemed to love the sounds of the sea, the crashing of waves against the rocks, the high winds, the smell of the sand and the salty sea air. Hermione had spent hours wandering along the beach, especially in the early days. The only thing that seemed to calm her upset stomach was the clear air on what she had claimed as  _her beach._

I peered down at where our hands met and smiled.

"We're going to spend our lives down here, you know that don't you?" I asked as I felt the press of what I assumed was a foot against my hand.

"A baby who loves the water and the sand, and the fresh air?" She pressed her hand to where our baby was kicking against her, "I certainly hope that's what our Little Dot loves."

Little Dot. The baby had been known as such since we had seen the first grainy images of it at the hospital. The 'little dot' in the centre of the screen, the doctor had said, was our baby and since Hermione had refused to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, it had been known as Little Dot since.

And since it was barely three weeks until our Little Dot would be joining us, I wanted to ask her to marry me. Nothing about how we had lived our lives together had been conventional or traditional, but I wanted to propose and hopefully have her say  _yes_ before the baby arrived.

I took both her hands in mine and sighed, "Hermione...?" The words caught in my throat and I closed my eyes. I felt her hands squeeze mine, and when I opened my eyes again I found her staring at me, her face full of concern.

I took a breath and tried again.

"When I was eleven years old, I met a girl on a train and she drove me insane for the next seven years. I both loved and hated that girl, she was the best and worst of everything I had been taught, and now that same girl is still driving me insane." My throat almost closed over with emotion. She was everything I ever dared to dream of, and standing before me with her round belly and her bare feet, and with tears shining in her eyes, she was more beautiful than I ever imagined she could be. "And now, every day I spend with her, I fall more and more in love with her. I love her mind, I love her body and I love her heart. But most of all, I love her capacity to love  _me._ Her love is limitless, and I'm sure I don't deserve it, but I promise her that for the remainder of my days, I will ensure that she knows just how much I love and adore her."

I took the small box out of my pocket and opened it towards her. Her breath caught and her tears spilled over.

"I am so in love with the mother of my child, with the woman I found miserable and alone on this very beach. I am so in love with the woman who tore down the walls of my own heart and let me see just how easy loving someone really is."

I held the tiny platinum band between my fingers, feeling the weight of it, the weight of my question.

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

She nodded, opening her mouth to respond, but only a choked sob came out.

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yes," she finally said and threw her arms around my neck, "Yes!"

I lifted her from the sand and twirled around, laughing and crying with her. I settled her back on her feet, and tried to slide her ring on, but her swollen fingers stopped me.

She pouted her lips and frowned, "That doesn't seem fair."

"I'll keep it safe, I promise."

"I love you," she said and pressed up on her toes to kiss me. She stopped before her lips pressed against mine, gasping, her entire face screwing up, " _Shit."_

"Hermione?" My hands flew to her stomach, "Is it…?"

"I think so." She grabbed my wrist, looking at my watch and timing what I assumed was a contraction. She nodded, more to herself than me an uttered, "It's fine."

"It's fine?" Even in my own ears my voice sounded panicked, "It's not fine. We need to get you to the hospital."

She shook her head, "No, not yet. It's too soon. We have plenty of time."

"Hermione—"

"Draco, really," She insisted, "It was a short pain that last a few seconds. If they are true contractions, we have a while before this baby arrives."

I looked at her sceptically, but I knew that she was most likely right. For all the books I had read and all the questions I had asked, she had read and asked double. She knew as much about birthing babies as all the healers at St Mungo's. She was prepared, so I needed to trust her.

"Fine," I relented, "But we're not staying down here." I took her hand, and not caring one lick if anyone saw us, apparated us to the house.


	25. Chapter 25

****** DRACO ******

* * *

Watching the amount of pain Hermione was in tore at my heart.

I thought I had prepared myself for it. I had read all about the different stages of labour, of pain, of helping her to breathe through it. Hell, I'd even seen Ginny in my living room wincing and groaning and breathing deeply when she went into labour with James. But this was different. This was Hermione.  _My_ Hermione and I hated to see her in the current state she was in.

After we'd apparated from the beach, she had calmly sat on the couch, holding my wrist and watching as the minutes ticked by on my watch. She had placed her hand gently on my bouncing knee, telling me to stay calm and breathe. I had rolled my eyes at her, but she had just laughed and insisted that everything was perfectly fine and if we turned up at the hospital now, they would just send us home.

Ginny and Harry had arrived at Hermione's request, and Potter had grinned smugly at me in my panicked state. I wanted to punch the look off his face, but since he'd been through this twice and I had about a million questions to ask him, I had kept my hands to myself. He had laughingly explained to me that I was just a supporting player here. Hermione was in control and I was best to just do whatever it was she asked of me.

So I had watched – one eye on the clock, one on Hermione – as she laughed with Ginny, as she winced and clenched her jaw as each painful contraction hit, how she meticulously noted the minutes between each one. I had no idea how she being so calm. I was terrified. My stomach was in knots, and I was sure that if my knee bounced any harder, I would require a new one.

Sensing my terror, Potter had done his best to keep me calm but as hard as I tried, I simply couldn't bear to stay at home any longer. Her contractions were still seven minutes apart, and she was insistent that we still had hours to go before our baby would arrive, but I was far too nervous about her having this baby on the floor of our living room that I insisted that we go.

We had arrived at the hospital and the receptionist had given me a look that I was sure most nervous fathers were given. He had looked at Hermione and asked if I had listened to anything she had said. She'd answered in the negative, the pair sharing a laugh, but I didn't care. I felt much safer now that we were there, and that our baby wouldn't be born at home.

Of course, she'd been right. Hours had passed and the baby was still safely ensconced inside her.

But as the hours had passed, her mood had changed. She had slowly gone from chatty and laughing, to quiet and subdued, and then to almost sullen and annoyed. I understood that her contractions had grown in intensity and were lasting longer, much longer, but there was something unnerving about the way she had transitioned into someone I hardly recognised.

She had taken to walking a constant path from one side of the room to the other, muttering quietly to herself, barely acknowledging anyone else in the room, including me. The only time she stopped was when a contraction hit. She would grip my hands as she talked herself through the pain, and then would simply resume her pacing and muttering.

She would occasionally look at me, as I walked beside her, staring blankly up at me, her lips moving but not forming words. Each time she did this, I wanted ask her to talk to me, but she had already told me to shut-up when I had tried to talk to her, to tell her how amazing she was, and since she was in charge here, I wasn't going to argue with my new fiancé and I kept my mouth shut. She  _had_  allowed me to rub her back and hold her hand, and I tried not to wince each time she gripped me so tightly I thought she would crush my bones. But if that was what it took for her to get through this, I would gladly let her break every bone in my body if she wanted to.

The nurses would talk quietly with her, as did the healer, but not one sound came from her; no cries of pain, no cursing at me for doing this to her, not even an 'ouch.' She simply breathed through the pain and nodded each time they quietly explained what was happening.

Hermione had paced the room until she could no longer stand up, and then she had lain quietly with her arms folded over her face. She had not uttered one word in almost an hour; her breathing was the only sound that she made. Her contractions were down to less than three minutes, and I was becoming more and more nervous at her complete silence.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and her brow creased. I desperately wanted to talk to her, to ask her what she wanted, what she needed, but I knew that the last thing she did need was for me to distract her from whatever it was that was going on inside her head.

"Draco?" Her whisper finally broke the silence.

"I'm right here, baby." I kept my voice quiet, soothing, "What do you need?"

"Just you," She said, finally pulling her arms away from her face and looking over at me. Her eyes were full of tears making my heart clench.

"I'm not going anywhere." I pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, kissed her cheeks as her tears fell, "You are blowing my mind right now, do you know that?"

She gave me a small smile. Her face was pale and splotchy, her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair damp with sweat. And she looked even more beautiful than she had on the beach that morning.

"You are a beast, Hermione Granger. A strong mumma bear. You have kept our baby safe, and now?" I lifted her hand to my lips, "You're doing the most amazing, most perfect job bringing this baby into the world."

She gripped my hand and her face contorted, but she still made no sound. I breathed with her, nodding as her eyes searched mine, almost pleading with me to make it stop. I watched her struggle, watched as she fought against her tears, and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop my own tears. She closed her eyes and I watched her finger as it tapped against my hand in a rhythm that matched the second hand on the clock.

I smiled; she was counting the seconds, timing how long her contractions were. I kissed her fingers, and I knew she had this. Despite all the pain she was experiencing, despite the tears, she was quietly in control. A fact that I should have realised, but had completely missed.

And then her face twisted into something new. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, her jaw clenched and her entire body tensed.

"Hermione?" I tried to keep the panic out of my voice but failed.

She shook her head and gripped my hand like a vice.

The nurse stepped up beside her, "Hermione?" She spoke in a gentle voice, "Do you need to push?"

Hermione nodded and the kindly woman patted her shoulder. "Listen to your body, okay? This baby is ready, and so are you." She looked at me, "Draco, you'll need to help her. Hold her leg, talk to her."

I watched as she looped her arm beneath Hermione's knee, holding her leg up and slightly out to the side. I copied her, and looked down at Hermione.

"Are you okay?" She panted.

"Me?" I couldn't believe that through all her pain she was worried about me.

"You don't...do well...with this...stuff." She panted, and the nurse chuckled.

So did I.

"I'll be fine. I'll just watch your face. My eyes won't look anywhere else."

But I lied. I did look down, telling myself that if Hermione could go through all of this, then I could pull myself together and not faint at the sight of my child being born.

I watched as Hermione pushed, bearing down with all her might; watched as the baby's head slowly emerged from her body. I reached down, touching the crown and a calmness that I hadn't expected washed over me. This was my child. The child I had given up hope of ever having. The child that I had made with the most perfect woman that ever existed. My throat swelled and I felt my tears on my face. Hermione's hand squeezed mine and I looked back at her.

She was smiling, despite her pain and exhaustion. I held her leg tighter and kissed her knee, "Almost done," I whispered and she nodded, pushing once more and crying out.

It was the first true sound of pain that she had made, and the healer looked up at her, his face as surprised as the rest of us. Hermione had been stoic throughout this entire birth. Her silence had made me nervous. I knew she was in pain, the healer knew, the nurses knew. But she had been quiet, had been dealing with it all inside her head. It was how she coped. But now, with that one loud cry, I knew she was fine, knew that all of her own nerves and her own concerns had just disappeared.

"That's it, baby," I encouraged and she cried out again. "You're almost there, Hermione, keep pushing."

And she did. She pushed our baby into the world like a champion, our daughter's tiny pink body finally sliding from her, all slippery and wet. I held my breath as the healer cleared her tiny mouth and nose, and my shoulders relaxed when a tiny, quiet cry sounded in the room.

Hermione reached for her and the healer placed our daughter on her stomach. She laughed, tears streaming down her face, as the baby's tiny arms flailed in surprise at suddenly being in a whole new world.

"Hi," Hermione whispered, "Thank you for choosing us to be your mummy and daddy." She kissed our daughter's crown and smiled up at me.

Her tiny fingers scratched at my face as I kissed her little forehead, and her eyes opened staring up into mine. I stroked my finger down her little cheek, smiling as she made a face and whimpered. I pulled my hand away at the tiny sound, but Hermione grabbed it.

"No, keep touching her." I looked up at her and she nodded, "She knows me, now she needs to know you."

"She," I said with a face-splitting grin, "We have little girl."

She reached up and stroked my cheek, "We do."

The baby startled and whimpered again, and Hermione, seeming to instinctively know what to do, pulled down the top of her gown and laid the baby against her skin. The nurse covered her with a blanket and placed a tiny hat on her head. Hermione wrapped her hands around her, rocking gently, stroking her cheek and whispering quietly to her.

I sat beside her, unsure of exactly what to do. The flurry of activity just minutes after the baby's birth had died down and the room had become quiet again.

Our baby had arrived and was content on Hermione's chest. She yawned and her big eyes blinked, as if still astonished that she was no longer warm and floating freely in Hermione's belly. She was so tiny and yet not unsubstantial. She was a living, breathing, tiny person who was a part of us both, and my need to protect her had instantly doubled the second she took her first breath.

Hermione looked at me, her expression a mixture of sheer exhaustion and absolute love. I wasn't sure how anyone could spend eight hours going through what she had and be smiling like she now was at the end.

"You were amazing, Hermione." I leaned over and kissed her, "Absolutely fucking amazing."

She pressed her finger to my lips, "No more swearing."

"Oh," I said with a chuckle, "So you won't be pleased if that's her first word?"

She shot me a look that made me laugh out loud. The baby startled at the sound and let out an adorable little wail.

I touched my hand to her back, "Sorry little one, Daddy didn't mean to frighten you." Her hands were balled into tight fists, and I smiled, "Just like your mum already."

Hermione looked down and pressed her lips to the baby's head, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. When she opened her eyes she looked up at me, "We did good."

"We did." I agreed, kissing her temple. I laid my head on the pillow beside Hermione's, staring at my daughter.

Nothing in my life had been as beautiful as this moment with my two girls. My two beautiful girls.

* * *

Hermione lay asleep in the hospital bed, her fist pressed between her cheek and the pillow. Her face was pale, and unsurprisingly, she was completely exhausted. If I had been in awe of her before today it was nothing. Watching her push our child into the world had given me a brand new insight into just how incredibly strong she truly was.

I watched her sleep - the woman who had just given birth to our child, the woman who one day soon would be my wife. Her chest rose and fell gently, and her adorable snoring squeak had returned, and I was delighted; I'd missed hearing it in the last few months.

My daughter slept in her hospital crib beside Hermione's bed. She was swaddled tightly, her little face peaceful, her bottom lip twitching. She was so pretty. She had a tiny button nose, a sweet rosebud mouth and her head was covered with just the smallest amount fine dark hair.

And I could hardly believe she was mine.

My eyes had hardly left her for the last hour. I had watched fascinated as Hermione fed her for the first time, had watched as she had been weighed and measure and declared perfectly healthy. I had nervously held her for the first time and then had my first lesson in how to put a nappy on a squirming, crying baby. Hermione had found it highly amusing, but I had finally succeeded and puffed my chest out with pride.

But now she was sleeping, they both were and I was far too wired to do anything but watch them both. I had sent an owl to my mother and the one I received back told me she would be here to meet her granddaughter the next day. I knew she would be beyond pleased to meet her, and that she would also be pleased that I had finally asked Hermione to marry me. She had been subtly – and sometimes not so subtly – enquiring when I planned to ask her since we had started living together. She may have moved with the times, but in some things she was still old fashioned and she liked tradition.

The baby stirred, her lips pursed into a pout and her face turned red. After a few little grunts, she began to whimper. I pressed my hand to her, rocking her gently and whispering soothing sounds. Her cries grew louder and my chest constricted; I already hated to hear her cry.

" _Shh_ ," I whispered, "It's okay."

I patted her gently, as Hermione had done, but her cries didn't stop.

"Hey, baby girl," I cooed, "Daddy's right here."

"You can pick her up, Draco," Hermione said.

I looked up at her. Her face was exhausted, but beautiful, and her smile was wide.

"She's your daughter, you can pick her up any time you want. You don't need permission."

I nodded and carefully slid my hand beneath her head, scooping her up against my chest. It was like holding air; she weighed almost nothing in my arms. She squirmed and let out another cry and then instantly went silent. I looked at Hermione who was smiling at me.

"She's already Daddy's girl."

I grinned, "And her Daddy is already ready to give her everything she ever wants."

Hermione shook her head, "She's not going to be a spoiled brat, Draco."

I leaned down and kissed her, "Are you saying I'm spoiled brat?"

"No," She said with a mischievous grin, "You are a spoiled  _arse_."

I laughed, the sound vibrating in my chest and startling the baby. Her eyes blinked open, wide and staring. "You don't like your mummy swearing, do you sweet baby girl?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned her head back on the pillows, "She needs a name, Draco."

"I know," I looked down at the baby in my arms, "Do you think the one you liked suits her?"

She nodded, "I think it does, but are  _you_ sure?"

I carefully shifted my baby girl to one arm and sat beside Hermione on the bed, reaching for her hand, "My family tradition isn't important. You are. And what you want is."

"It's not just what I want, we both have to decide." She reached forward, running her finger along the edge of the blanket hiding our daughter's face. She pulled it down and smiled, "What do you think?"

"You know that I love the name that you chose. And it does suit her."

"I agree." She kissed the baby's puffy cheek.

I looked back down to our little girl. "Hello Charlotte Abigail Granger-Malfoy."

"No," Hermione said, "That's not her name."

"It's not?" I was confused. It was the name she had chosen early in her pregnancy and I loved it the instant she had suggested it, and she hadn't suggested another.

"No," She took my hand, "If I'm going to be a Malfoy, then so should she."

I thought my heart would explode. I had assumed that Hermione wouldn't change her name when she married me, so I had also assumed our daughter would carry both.

"You okay?"

I leaned forward and kissed her, feeling several thousand different emotions. Happiness, elation, love, sheer terror at being a father, sheer joy at Hermione agreeing to marry me, all hit me at once. This woman and this tiny little girl were my entire world. They were my family and I was theirs. And nothing would ever change that.

I stroked Hermione's cheek, "You told me  _yes_ , you gave me a daughter,  _and_  you're taking my name. I'm not sure I can take much more today."

Hermione reached for Charlotte and I handed her over, "It's been a big day for you."

I laughed and shifted to lay beside my two girls, lifting my arm so Hermione could curl against me. "You have no idea."


	26. Chapter 26

****** HERMIONE ******

* * *

I heard the quiet humming coming from across the hall. I smiled and sat up; Draco's side of the bed was empty, again, and I knew he was in the nursery with our baby daughter.

We'd been lucky; she was the perfect baby. She hardly fussed, slept soundly and only cried when she was hungry. And her tiny cry hadn't gotten any louder, just a quiet mewling noise that made her sound like a kitten. But that tiny cry woke Draco almost before it started, and he was usually out of bed before I had the chance to go to her.

I tip-toed across the hall, pausing in the doorway and watching the scene before me. Charlotte was curled in a tiny ball on Draco's bare chest, her little head tucked under his chin, and he was humming softly and rocking her gently. His big hands enveloped her tiny body, and I knew it was why she calmed instantly with him; she felt safe in those hands.

I loved watching him with her. The sullen, broody schoolboy had changed into a gentle, rational man. He was still direct and to the point when he was at work, and his temper still flared on occasion, but with Charlotte he had become quiet and calm.

He had become her Daddy.

And he was completely enamoured with her. He was so gentle and sweet, talking non-stop to her in the rare moments she was awake, and taking her upstairs in her rocker so he could play the piano for her. And often I would find him simply staring at her as she slept. Our little girl had turned him into a sappy shell of his former self, and I just loved him all the more for it.

And if I was honest, seeing him bare-chested with our tiny daughter in his arms had me wanting to be pregnant all over again.

He looked up and his eyes met mine, smiling and beckoning me over.

"Hi," I said quietly and stood on my toes to kiss him.

"Hi," He kissed me back and wrapped one arm around me, and I ran my hand down our daughter's back.

We stood wrapped together for a few minutes - my little family - as we did often, until she blinked her eyes opened, her wide, brown eyes quietly watching me. But as soon as she realised it was me, she let out a tiny cry. Her daddy was fine for cuddles, but she knew when I was close.

Her tiny hands balled into fists and she squirmed restlessly against his chest, her little legs pulling up and she let out another quiet cry. I felt my already tight breasts grow even heavier, and my milk letting down at the tiny, whimpered sound. It was something that I hadn't anticipated – her cry having this effect. It had been a bizarre sensation the first time it had happened; a warm, tingling feeling that was as odd as it was natural.

I took her from him and pressing my nose to her head breathed her in. It was something else I hadn't been prepared for – her clean, baby smell. It was seared into me, and I was sure that if I was blindfolded in a room full of babies, I would instantly know she was mine.

She had my dark eyes and hair, and I hated to admit it, but I was silently pleased. Ginny's two boys looked exactly like Harry, and I had convinced myself throughout my pregnancy that our child – regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl - would have Draco's blonde hair and grey eyes. So seeing my own eyes in the little face that looked back at me was my own guilty pleasure.

"Sorry," I whispered, "I interrupted you."

He laughed, "There's only so much I can do. You're the one she wants."

I sat in the rocking chair, positioning her to feed her. "That's only because I'm where the food is."

"It's more than that, Mummy," he kissed my forehead, "She adores you, you know that."

"She's a month old; she adores anyone who gives her cuddles."

"That's true." He agreed and then sat in the window seat beside us, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning his chin on his hands. His eyes were heavy, and he looked exhausted.

He'd taken two weeks off and we had been living our blissful little existence, on our blissfully quiet cliff, just the three of us. Of course, we'd had plenty of visitors, and Narcissa had stayed for a few nights in our first week at home to help out. She'd been a godsend, keeping both me and Draco calm, telling us not to jump at every sound our new daughter made. But it had fallen on deaf ears with Draco. Every whimper, every snuffle, every movement, he was there, hovering over her or rocking her gently.

I tried to dissuade him, but gave up. This was his little girl, and I knew there was no point in getting between them. But he still had a company to run, and being tired and cranky with clients wouldn't bode well for him.

"Draco, go back to bed. You have to work, and you don't need to fall asleep at your desk."

He waved his hand dismissively at me, "Erica will wake me if I do."

"Draco," I reached out and touched his knee, "I love that you're doing this, but it's not worth it if you can't function properly."

"What about you?" He covered my hand with his, "You're easily as exhausted as I am."

"Yes, but I don't have to work. I'm home all day with her and I can sleep when she does." I countered and he scowled.

"I hate when you're right."

"You should be used to it by now."

He stood and leaned over me. I tilted my head back and smiled up at him, and he smirked. "Three more weeks, and that arse of yours will be covered with my hand print for that smart remark."

I laughed, startling the baby. She pulled away from me with a tiny cry. " _Shh, shh_ ," I whispered, touching my nipple to her top lip and directing her back to me. "Sorry little one, but your Daddy is being an arse."

"Don't listen to her, Charlotte." He bent down and kissed Charlotte's pudgy cheek, "Mummy loves when it Daddy's an arse."

I brushed my hand over his head, "Go to bed. You're delirious."

He leaned his face closer to me, his lips hovering over mine, "You know it's true."

I pressed my hand to his chest, "Please don't tease me, not when we can't do anything."

"Sorry." He kissed my forehead and stroked my cheek, "That was thoughtless of me."

"You're tired, I forgive you." I brushed my fingers longingly across his chest and sighed, "Go to bed."

He kissed me again and headed for the door.

"And put a shirt on!"

I heard him chuckle as he left the room.

I sighed and looked down at Charlotte as she snuffled against me. I smiled at my little girl.

I had loved being pregnant with her. Loved feeling her move, loved watching her little feet and hands press out against my skin. And to be honest, I had been totally shocked. My reluctance to start a family was such a ridiculous thought now that she was here, I felt like slapping myself. One look at this perfect little person and my fears of having to give up my life and my dreams for someone else seemed to be the most blindingly stupid thing my mind had come up with to date.

I had already fallen in love with her the second those tiny pink lines appeared on that plastic stick. I fell in love with her when I felt the first flutters of her existence, when I saw the first hospital pictures of her. But the moment she was placed on my chest, I knew. My love for her was boundless and I would give up the world for her.

And Draco had been more than I could have ever imagined. I thought I had prepared myself, but when that first  _real_ contraction hit, the one that lasted for more than just a few seconds, I knew I really wasn't prepared. Nothing on the planet could prepare a person for that. The pain had been immense and it seemed to be on a loop, coming and going, over and over again, and the thought that it would never stop terrified me _._

But Draco had been there, silent when I couldn't stand the sound of his voice; encouraging and supportive when I let him back in. And his face when our daughters' head first appeared out of me had been one of complete awe. His queasiness having vanished, and his look of awe changed to that of sheer joy when he reached down and touched the top of her little head.

I'd felt guilty that I had all but excluded him. I had retreated into my own head, and blocked out everything around me, including him. But it had been easier to cope when I concentrated on my pain without distraction. He had assured me that my guilt was ridiculous, that I'd done nothing wrong and had only done exactly what I had needed to get myself through.

And now that she was home with us, this tiny little girl had become the sole focus of our lives. Every day I still found myself completely astounded that she was here, and that she was mine and Draco's. She was so perfect, and so adorable, and I loved these quiet moments with her. Whether she was sleeping curled against me, or feeding, or just staring up at me as I stared back at her, I loved that it was just the two of us. And it was the reason I had given up trying to make Draco not fuss over her. I knew that if he felt just a smidgen of what I felt, it would have been torture for him to leave her every day.

I brushed my fingertips across the fine hair on her head, "Your Daddy  _is_ an arse." I whispered and her little fingers raked over my skin. I lifted her hand and pressed my lips to her fingers, "But we still love him."

* * *

After three days of non-stop storms, the rain had finally cleared. The air was fresh and the sun was out, but the wind was like ice as I stood on the beach.

My pink beanie was pulled tightly over my ears, and the baby strapped to my chest was bundled to within an inch of her life. Her tiny beanie matched mine – a very thoughtful and much loved gift from Molly – and I had my coat wrapped snugly around her.

"This is our beach, baby girl," I told her and leaned closer, adding in a whisper, "Only good things happen on our beach."

I'd been itching to bring her down here, and while I knew she had no clues where she was, I still wanted to her to feel the air and hear the sea. She had kicked and pushed against me every time I made my way down here when I was pregnant with her. Like me, she had seemed to love the sounds of the crashing waves, so I wanted to see if her reactions were still the same.

"It's been almost four years," I told her, "Four years since I arrived here, and do you know why I came here? I was miserable. I was lonely and sad and hated the world. Nothing in my life was good, and I came here to hide away from everything."

I looked up at the high cliff, seeing the stairs that led to the cottage I had first moved into and smiled. My first night there had been hell. Between the complete silence of being alone and the torrential storm that had been raging outside, I had barely slept. I barely slept that entire first week.

"And then I found our beach." Charlotte made a squeaking sound and squirmed, her eyes wide as I talked to her. "I came down here every day and walked across the sand, and stared out at the water, and I threw about a million pebbles into the sea. I wasn't crazy or anything, I was just throwing my old life away and finding a new one." I laughed, realising how insane that sounded. "Maybe I was a bit crazy."

I wrapped my coat more tightly around us as a gust of wind whipped across the shore. "And then do you know what happened? Your daddy found me."

I closed my eyes, remembering that day. Of all the people that could have found me, it had to be Draco Malfoy. Stupid, sodding Draco Malfoy.

"But he wasn't nasty or unkind. He was perfect," I kissed the top of her beanie-covered head, "But don't tell him I said that, his ego is big enough."

I chuckled to myself and began to walk along the sand.

I still loved to walk barefoot and feel the wet sand between my toes; I still loved to feel the sting of the wind on my face and taste the salt air in my lungs. We'd made love on this beach several times, when the weather was warmer and the sun had dipped below the horizon.

I felt my cheeks heat up at the memory of the first time. We'd been sitting against the cliffs, wrapped in a blanket, a small fire lit in the sand, simply talking and enjoying the cooler, mid-summer evening, when he began to kiss my shoulder and neck. And before long, we we're naked under the blanket, his face buried in my neck, and his cock even deeper inside me.

I'd glamoured us, of course - at least I did that first time - and as romantic as beach sex sounds, sand gets into places it really doesn't belong. But that didn't stop us; the sex in the shower afterwards was always just as good.

I'd reached the rocky outcrop, and turned back around, to see one of my favourite sights. Draco was coming towards us on his last loop as he ran along the sand. His smile was wide as he approached us, slowing to a jog and then a walk, meeting us at the bottom of the stairs beneath the small cottage that I occupied when I first came here.

"Hey you two," He said, tugging my coat back slightly and kissing our daughter's pink cheek. "Finally made it down here, yeah?"

"She insisted." I said wrapping my coat back around her, covering all but the top of her pink beanie.

"Oh, _really?"_ He drawled, and then kissed my cheek, "Or did you just want to see my arse in these pants?"

"Your ego is unbelievable," I rolled my eyes, and then grinned, "But yes, of course I did."

He turned around, "Does that meet your approval?"

"Not bad." I said and ran my hand over one cheek and then slapped him lightly. He raised one eyebrow at me, but I ignored him, "You let me sleep."

"You were so tired, you didn't even move when I got up to her this morning."

I glanced down at the baby, "She was fussier than normal last night. I got up a few more times than usual."

He frowned and gently placed his hand on her head, "Is she sick?"

I shook my head, "No, she's fine. Probably just having an off night. We all have them."

He looked at her for a few more seconds before looking back at me, "So, what's her verdict? Loves it? Hates it?"

I shrugged. I knew she'd dropped off to sleep, she'd slowly gotten heavier as her little body relaxed. "Indifference, I think."

"Give her time, she'll grow into it."

"I have no doubts," I laughed, and then squatted down to pick up a tiny pebble that I had spotted. I rolled it in my fingers and smiled when I reached for Draco to help me to stand again.

"Alright?" He asked looking at the tiny stone I had retrieved from the sand.

I nodded, gripping his hand tightly. "Draco, that first day that you saw me, before you even knew it was me?" He nodded and a small smile curled his mouth at what I assumed was the memory of seeing his new neighbour destroying his solitude. "I never told you what I was doing when I came down here the very first time."

"No, I just assumed my weird new neighbour was having some crazy ' _find my inner goddes_ s' moment."

I laughed, "No, nothing like that." I paused, "Well, not really. I was down here wondering just how I had gotten here. My life was so shitty, and I hated the world and everyone in it. And then I picked up a tiny pebble and tossed it into the sea, asking for something beautiful in return."

A wide smile spread across his face. "Did you get it?"

I looked at the pebble in my hand,  _did I get my something beautiful? Was he kidding?_

I put the stone in my pocket, the sea wasn't getting this one. I had already asked for enough, and I had received more than I could have ever wanted.

"Did I get my something beautiful?" I wrapped my arm tightly around my little girl and pulled him into my side, and smiled and nodded at the expectant look on his face, "I got it in spades."

* * *

**The End**

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I published this over at FFnet, and wanted to share it over here as well. Enjoy xx


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